


God Grant Me Serenity

by JustSimpleThings



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad First Date, Barista Lambert, Caring Jaskier | Dandelion, Complex trauma, Disabled Vesemir, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Bliss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Firefighter Eskel, Firefighter Geralt, Fluff, Foster Care, Hairstylist Jaskier, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jaskier Being Amazing As Usual, Lambert Being an Asshole (The Witcher), Lambert Needs a Hug (The Witcher), M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traumatised Lambert, Wheelchairs, anger issues, handjobs, no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSimpleThings/pseuds/JustSimpleThings
Summary: Lambert is a barista at Kaer Morhen Café. He has no hopes, no aspirations; he just wants to work in peace.Everything changes when an annoying,privilegedlittle shit begins frequenting his shop...--Or:I proudly present to you my take on a Jaskier/Lambert Coffee Shop AU!Warnings:this story contains mentions of past childhood physical/emotional abuse and neglect, being in the care system, foster homes, suicidal thoughts and sexual abuse/assault happening to an underage character.It also features a disabled character who has an incomplete spinal cord injury. I apologise if I use any disability-related terms incorrectly, please let me know in the comments if you notice any such mistakes and I'll be happy to correct them!
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 50
Kudos: 127





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norules/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt by norules:
> 
> "Coffee Shop AU. [...] The only condition I have is that in the beginning they don't like each other - maybe one is a mean bitch or an arrogant asshole (but not really of course) or there is a misunderstanding or whatever your mind comes up with!"
> 
> Here's what I came up with! I hope you enjoy.
> 
> The title is an allusion to Reinhold Niebuhr's famous prayer:
> 
> "God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,  
> Courage to change the things I can,  
> and Wisdom to know the difference."

The enigmatically named ‘Kaer Morhen’ was a small coffee shop that was hidden between much more extravagant looking establishments in an up-and-coming part of the town.

Unlike other shops though, Kaer Morhen had little to boast about in terms of décor: from the outside, the shop looked quite plain, all black with a gold weather-worn sign showcasing it’s name and the date when it was established ( _Kaer Morhen Café est. 1222_ ).

It was simply, albeit tastefully furnished on the inside with lush burgundy armchairs, comfortable couches, and sturdy oak tables. There were always some fresh flowers on display courtesy of the owner, Vesemir who thought that a proper café should _always_ have them like in the olden days – end of the story.

Vesemir had three adopted sons (from oldest to youngest): Eskel (32), Geralt (31) and Lambert (27). It was the youngest son, Lambert who had ended up carrying on the ‘family business’, by taking over the café’s management from Vesemir, when the old man became unable to do so due to a spinal cord injury.

Vesemir was still in good spirits and would come downstairs to converse with patrons regularly, but due to being bound to a wheelchair most of the time, he simply wasn’t able to reach the high counter tops which housed all the modern coffee-making machinery in the shop. Instead, he focused on the part of coffee-making he liked best anyway: the selection and sourcing of quality coffee beans, which he himself would roast up in small batches.

Despite the shop’s simple aesthetic and downright minimalist coffee menu (with latte, cappuccino, flat white, espresso and long black being the only beverages on offer) the place had something of a cult following.

Among their regulars, the people they prepared orders for daily included: Geralt and Eskel (Vesemir’s other adopted sons, who worked as firefighters at the Central Fire Station a few blocks over), Coen (the florist who they usually got their flowers from), Yennefer (the owner of the high-end hair and beauty salon, _Lilac and Gooseberries_ which was located just opposite their shop), Sabrina (a beautician working at the same place) and Ciri (Yennefer’s teenage daughter).

* * *

Lambert was the current manager and the sole employee of the shop – he was fully in charge of interacting with the customers and preparing orders most days, although he would let Vesemir help him out (by taking orders and handling the register) occasionally if the old man wanted to do so.

They lived over their tiny coffee shop, on the first floor of the building; so all Lambert needed to do in the mornings to ‘get to work’ was to go down the stairs which connected directly into the café’s little kitchen. (A place obscured from the customers, where Vesemir took care of the roasting, aging and proper storage of the precious coffee beans.)

However, Lambert was _not_ a morning person, so even getting up on time was a huge feat for him on most days...

And today was no exception.

He had slept like shit, as usual. His sleep was riddled with nightmares, of fire and screams and sirens. The usual stuff; but it was still enough to put him into a foul mood.

Lambert knew he needed to behave professionally though, because he couldn’t afford to lose any more customers over his coarseness and lack of manners; he needed all the money he could get if he wanted to buy Vesemir that new wheelchair he had found for him on the internet recently.

His adoptive father kept insisting that his current simple [manual wheelchair](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61hTRbNn4sL._AC_SS350_.jpg) was “fine” and that he did not need another one – and yes, objectively Lambert knew that the chair was still in excellent condition, but it was quite a simple model, and it was coming up to being six years’ old now: since it was the first wheelchair they had gotten for Vesemir in the wake of his spinal cord injury.

Unlike in those early days, they knew the extent of Vesemir’s permanent disabilities now – and therefore, the type of wheelchair that would be the most suitable for him.

The particular wheelchair Lambert was planning to get for his adoptive dad was one that combined the advantages of a manual wheelchair (being light and foldable) with those of an electric wheelchair: because it was [electrically assisted](http://www.lovethesepics.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Solo-Electrically-Assisted-Concept-Wheelchair-by-designer-Oystein-Husby.jpg), meaning that it would help the user when going uphill and it had an ‘auto-break’ function that would stop it from rolling back if one stopped on a slope.

Thankfully, Vesemir was still young at fifty-five years old, and he was in excellent shape – apart from the permanent weakness in his legs caused by his spinal cord injury which meant that while he could stand up with help, and he could take a few tentative steps (painstakingly slowly, with the utmost concentration), he couldn’t walk reliably on his own; not even with a frame, although he had done his best to master that in the past years - until he finally had to admit defeat.

He did that the way he did everything: cheerfully, with a matter-of-fact attitude.

"Looks like we'll be keeping the chair."

That was all he'd said with a small smirk, while Lambert had broken down and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed... And the old geezer had had the gall to comfort him, as if _he_ was the one who needed it, not Vesemir himself...

So a wheelchair it was.

But - Vesemir never failed to point out - his injury level meant that the strength in his upper body was unaffected (the old man could still bench-press a hundred kg's easily!), so _yes_ , technically he could do without the extra comforts granted by an electrically assisted wheelchair compared to a manual one- such as not having to exert a great deal of effort to propel oneself forward using the [push rims](https://www.speedysnailmobility.co.nz/uploads/9/9/1/8/99181624/14188110-1271783329512669-3728938515068543933-o_orig.jpg)-... 

But Lambert didn’t care.

Because his Dad deserved the best… And this was the least he could do for him; since _he_ was the reason his dad had become paralysed in the first place.

(Even if Vesemir would smack him for thinking that – he knew that was true. Vesemir would never have suffered that fateful injury if it wasn’t for Lambert’s foolish actions.

So yes, he considered it his fault.)

Lambert tried not to dwell on the topic too often, since there was nothing he could do to change that now - it was all in the past... 

But at least he could get his Dad this new, modern chair - he just _knew_ that the old man would be much happier with it: finally, he wouldn’t need to worry about going up steep ramps (because most ‘accessible’ places in town had these ridiculous ramps that were just way too steep for a manual wheelchair user to use without asking for assistance) or about going on hikes (scenic walks, really) up the local hill with his war veteran buddies.

So Lambert would get that chair for him, costs be damned.

Lambert noticed that he had zoned out and he sighed. It was time to go downstairs, because it was nearly opening time (7.30am); he had to prepare the orders for the regulars who would be arriving soon.

To Lambert’s utter astonishment, as he came downstairs, and he clicked the lights on (as the sun hadn’t risen yet), he was shocked to see that there was already a queue in front of the shop’s entrance: he could clearly see is brothers: Eskel and Geralt, as well as two of their regular customers: Yennefer and Coen who were engaged in a lively conversation – but also – surprisingly - some new people as well.

He groaned and rubbed his face, trying to force himself into wakefulness.

This was going to be a long morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter. I know it is quite short, but there is a LOT of information in it (some of it well-hidden, I hope *smirk*), so I thought this would be a good place to stop.  
> The next chapter will be much more action-focused and real time, as we will see how Lambert's morning unfolds... and erm - he may or may not meet somebody new... 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated as always! :)


	2. A Rocky Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: adoptive brothers (NOT blood-related, aka step-brothers) being in a romantic relationship - if that's not your cup of tea, you've been warned!
> 
> Also warning for slight vegan-bashing? If that's a thing. I have nothing against vegans, Lambert is just being an asshole, I'm sorry! Don't take it to heart, please.

The first people in the door were Eskel and Geralt, as usual.

“’Morning, lovebirds!” Lambert drawled at them as way of greeting. He took pleasure in annoying his brothers (in this case, Geralt) by announcing their relationship status publicly – the trick never failed to make Geralt frown, because he was a _very_ private man and he preferred to keep his private life just that: private.

It probably also didn’t help that he was dating his adoptive _sibling_ …

Geralt had this weird complex about wanting to seem ‘normal’ and shit.

Lambert could never understand that.

He couldn’t have cared less if he was dating one of his brothers, as long as they weren’t related by blood: which none of them were, thank goodness.

Geralt had been sixteen years old and Eskel had just turned seventeen when Vesemir had adopted them; with barely a few months’ difference of the two adoptions going through even though they came from different parts of the country; that’s how they’d met. They each received their own room in Vesemir’s house, and there was little in common between them – Eskel liked reading, history, music and art, and Geralt was more interested in sports and video games.

And yet, they’d gotten along fine from the very beginning – as Vesemir liked to fondly recall.

Eskel and Geralt being two _gay_ teenage boys, as it happened, it was no surprise really, that a few years down the line, their relationship took a turn from friendly to romantic.

They had clearly been involved with each other by the time Lambert was adopted, three years later. Lambert was 14 years’ old at the time. He had noted that his new ‘brothers’ were acting weird sometimes, but he didn’t think much of it.

It was Vesemir who had figured it out in the end and sat them all down to have ‘The Talk’. Geralt had been white as a sheet when Vesemir had announced that he knew that they were in a sexual relationship, and that he was fine with that as long as they were being safe about it and treating each other fairly and with respect. Eskel had beamed at that, clearly relieved, while Geralt had just looked mortified… But he didn’t deny anything, because Geralt never lied, of course… Ever chivalrous, the stupid git.

Geralt and Eskel had been going steady – barring for some brief ‘breaks’ over the years here and there – for over twelve years now. And instead of growing apart, they just seemed more and more smitten each year.

It was a bit _sickening_ to watch, really. Lambert sort of wished that his brothers would just tie the knot finally, and adopt some kids or puppies or some shit – so they’d have less time to visit him.

“Good Morning, Lambert.” Eskel greeted him with a bright smile. “How are you on this fine morning? How is Dad, is he up yet?”

Lambert shrugged.

“Fine. I don’t think so, he enjoys sleeping in lately.” Lambert grabbed the two re-useable takeaway cups labelled ‘Geralt’ and ‘Eskel’, with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “Here you go, latte for you, Eskel and a long black for you, Geralt. Predictable and boring as ever.”

Geralt just rolled his eyes, but Eskel smirked.

“He’s got a point, you know?” The older man said. “It wouldn’t hurt you to try something new once in a while. -- Have a good day, Lambert!” Eskel added, nodding towards him cheerfully before they turned around, heading towards the Fire Station to report for their shifts.

Next up in the queue was Yennefer, and someone Lambert didn’t recognise.

“Good Morning, Lambert! Look who I brought today – he is my new stylist, Jaskier. I bet he’ll be a returning customer too once he gets a taste of your coffee!” Yennefer said, smirking a bit too widely.

Lambert was almost sure that she had some sort of ulterior motive - else she wouldn't have been smiling like that; Yennefer hardly ever smiled, not even on her own birthday. She was taking the piss for sure, although Lambert couldn't yet decipher why.

Jaskier seemed like a fairly normal guy, and he looked exactly the way Lambert imagined a _guy-hairdresser_ usually did: flamboyantly gay - with colourful paint splatters printed all over his on his shirt, a matching grey silk vest and long, floppy hair.

“Hello,” Lambert said, addressing the guy in what he hoped was a neutral and not-too-annoyed-sounding voice. “What can I get you?”

The guy – Jaskier – bit his lip as he looked up at him, giving Yennefer a silent glance, before he spoke up:

“Umm – is there anyway you’d have any non-dairy milk on hand? I am vegan…”

Lambert couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little bit at that comment.

Shit… A fucking _vegan_ in his shop…

But he did his best to reign in his annoyance and he sort of tried to force a smile onto his face, because Yen was right – Jaskier _could_ be a regular customer if only Lambert could manage not to scare him off…. Since the guy will be working at _Lilac and Gooseberries_ apparently… He will need to get his daily coffee fix somewhere!

“Hmm – no, unfortunately, we don’t have any," Lambert said carefully. "But the espresso and the long black are definitely dairy free.”

Jaskier winced.

“Oh, that’s okay! I’m not really into the taste of coffee, so I’ll skip it then, thanks!” The guy said, appearing all apologetic in his poncy, intellectual way.

Lambert could feel his blood pressure rising from zero to hundred all of a sudden.

“You don’t like the _taste of…_??" He repeated, feeling flabbergasted. "What the hell did you think we were serving here??! This is a fucking _coffee_ shop!!! Go to Starbucks if you want to drink a sugary chai latte or a pink-unicorn-frappucino made of _soy milk_ , if that’s what you want---”

Yennefer gave Lambert a long-suffering look, clearly signalling that he was acting a ‘ _bit rude_ ’, again…

To Lambert’s surprise, instead of becoming chastised, if anything, Jaskier puffed his chest out more, appearing way taller all of a sudden.

“Excuse me?!” The man shouted back at him. “ _I_ am the customer here and I don’t think that this reproach was warranted! All I asked was if you had any dairy-alternatives on hand – which is surely not an outlandish request since we are living in the 21st century--!”

“Well, _we don’t!_ End of the story!” Lambert shouted back, trying to cut their argument short because he could see that some people standing behind Yennefer and Jaskier in the line were starting to appear uncomfortable and he wouldn’t lose any more money over a stupid vegan _fuckwit_ , damnit!

Jaskier was gearing himself up to talk again, but before he could, Lambert grabbed Yennefer’s flat white and handed it to her with a flourish.

“Have a lovely day, Yen. Next!” Lambert said, not even sparing Jaskier a second glance.

He could hear Jaskier saying something to Yennefer indignantly as they left the shop, but thankfully, they got out of earshot quickly.

Lambert was startled out of his busy routine of taking orders and making coffees by Vesemir’s low grumbling booming out behind him.

“You’re having a lively morning from what I’d heard. Need any help?” Vesemir asked, looking at him questioningly but not unkindly.

Lambert groaned. Of course the old man would have heard him shouting at that poncy vegan hairdresser guy… Vesemir’s hearing was better than a dog’s.

“Good morning, Dad. It was nothing, just an annoying customer.”

“Hmm, annoying how?” Vesemir asked back thoughtfully.

Lambert could feel his ears turning a bit red at the old man’s scrutiny. He knew he’d messed up… there was no excuse for losing his temper like that – but still, he hated being called out for it. There was nothing to it though – he’d better fess up and tell his Dad what had happened. He would figure it out anyway…

“Yen came over with a new guy – one of her newest employees, apparently. He’s a hairdresser and he’s vegan and… he asked for vegan milk. I sort of snapped at him after that.” Lambert said, re-telling the morning’s events as neutrally as he could, while he busied himself with cleaning the counter and loading the dishwasher – anything but looking at his Dad.

Vesemir hummed.

“I see… You know, Lambert, I think there are more and more vegans and dairy-intolerant people in the world – perhaps we should get some dairy-free milk. Don’t worry about it, I’ll look into it.” Vesemir said, voice bearing no argument.

Lambert felt shocked at Vesemir’s words – usually, the guy was a stickler for tradition – so he felt a bit betrayed by Vesemir’s sudden change of heart.

He felt a twitch of irritation rising in him, just recalling the _arrogant_ way Jaskier had demanded that stupid fucking non-dairy milk –

_Hell would have to freeze over before he’d be making fucking dairy-free lattes!!!_

“With all due respect, Dad,” Lambert began in a carefully laboured voice. “I- I don’t think that non-dairy milk would be suitable for frothing… At this recent barista workshop that I’d been to they said that some kinds of soy milk will curdle or burn fairly easily, and won’t froth at all—“

“You are right,” Vesemir said, nodding patiently _(insufferably)_. “Which is why I’m going to get the best possible non-dairy milk – there are some brands of oat milk that will froth easily and are said to provide a very pleasing taste and texture.” The old man said giving him a sly look. “But of course, it may take some practice until you'd get the hang of making perfect milk foam and froth using oat milk, I guess. If you think it’s too hard for you, I could give it a go myself, or better yet, we could hire somebody – “

“I’ll do it, damnit!” Lambert snapped. “I don’t need help – I’ll – I’ll figure it out!” He crossed his arms petulantly. “Just didn’t want to bother with it is all… And I wonder if there’ll be enough demand for it for this to be profitable. If it’s just this one guy asking for it, that hardly justifies buying more than a carton each month—”

“Well, we’ll give it a go,” Vesemir said cheerfully in a decisive voice. He turned his wheelchair and made his way to the kitchen – to roast beans or perhaps to use his computer to look up oat milk options, apparently…

Lambert began to fume as soon as the old man had left. Vesemir loved it that he was the boss around here – and he never failed to tell Lambert that.

“My shop, my rules,” He’d say. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave boy, I’m not holding you hostage!”

Sometimes, Lambert could’ve sworn that the old man was _trying_ to piss him off – to make him leave.

But why would he have done that? That made no sense. Lambert was probably imagining things.

He didn’t have anymore time to dwell about things because the next batch of coffee-hungry customers had arrived. Lambert needed all of his attention to ensure that he could serve everyone quickly and efficiently all on his own.

Just the way he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter :) Hopefully the puzzle-pieces are starting to slot together... although i know, I have yet to explain the backstory behind Vesemir's injury and why Lambert believes it is his fault... but we'll get there soon!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love :) <3


	3. Jaskier meets Vesemir

To Lambert’s utmost surprise, Jaskier came back the following morning – a little later this time and with Sabrina (another regular customer) instead of Yen for company.

“Good morning, Sabrina. Jaskier.” Lambert said, giving them each a polite nod. “What can I get for you?”

“Morning, Lambert dear. I would like a flat white out of that fabulous Moroccan blend, if you still have it?”

“I’m pretty sure we have some left, but I’ll check. And for you?” He said, addressing Jaskier.

“I would like a shot of espresso, to have here please.” Jaskier replied, just as politely, giving Lambert a pleasant little smile.

Lambert’s brows lifted in surprise – did the stylist have a change of heart then? Had he realised he wanted to learn the taste of _actual_ coffee after all?

Anyway, it had nothing to do with him. Money was money and a customer was a customer.

He nodded curtly at him.

“Coming right up.”

He grabbed the ingredients for both coffees and made quick work of preparing the two coffees – the smooth, creamy espresso in a little espresso cup, and Sabrina’s beverage in a takeaway cup, because that’s what she usually liked.

“Here you go.” Lambert said, handing over the beverages.

“Thanks!” They both chimed sweetly.

Lambert noted with surprise that instead of sitting down to drink the espresso, Jaskier simply went over to one of the coffee tables and grabbed something from his backpack that looked like a thermos flask.

Lambert’s eyes widened.

He kept on watching in horror and shock as Jaskier, grabbed an empty travel mug from his pack as well, and he proceeded to pour the espresso into it, and then opened the thermos, pouring – what looked like – some sort of warm non-dairy milk over it. It wasn’t frothy, of course – the thermos would have ruined that even if it would have been frothed earlier.

Lambert couldn’t control himself any longer.

“How dare you desecrate my coffee like that?!” Lambert burst out indignantly.

Predictably, Jaskier didn’t so much as flinch.

“ _Your coffee?”_ He asked mirthfully. “I’ve just paid for it – this is my coffee and I’ll do with it as I please!”

“But that’s an utter waste!” Lambert countered. “To ruin that beautiful creamy espresso with mediocre luke-warm milk…”

Jaskier scoffed. “Well it’s the best I can get, since you,” He said, pointing at Lambert. “Won’t do me the courtesy of getting some goddamn milk that I can actually drink!”

Lambert crossed his arms. Two could play at this game.

“ _Can’t_ – or _won’t?_ As far as I’m aware, you could drink what we have on offer here, easily…”

“What part of ‘ _vegan’_ don’t you understand??” Jaskier hollered back disbelievingly.

Lambert dragged his palm over his face.

“All of it, but that’s not---”

“What’s going on here?” Vesemir’s voice boomed out from the kitchen all of a sudden.

 _Oh shit!_ Lambert froze in shock. He had completely forgotten that Vesemir was up and about already – well of course, he would be, it was almost nine o’clock afterall…

Before he could try and stop him, Vesemir was out on the shop’s floor, rolling out from behind the counter on his wheelchair.

He was looking at Lambert with a pointed look that made him feel like he was a teenager caught out by him again.

“Nothing, Dad… Umm – Jaskier, Sabrina – this is Vesemir, my Dad, the café’s owner… I-I work for him.” Lambert finished awkwardly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Sabrina said politely.

“Please, just call me ‘Vesemir’.” Vesemir replied, looking over them before his eyes settled on Jaskier. “Now, Jaskier – I have to apologise if Lambert here gave you any grief just now – he is very passionate about coffee-making, but he takes it too far sometimes…”

“Apology accepted. Thank you, Vesemir,” Jaskier replied, looking at his Dad instead of looking at Lambert. “We were just talking about the merits of non-dairy milk, as I happen to be vegan, and as such, cannot drink cow's milk…”

Vesemir smiled at him fondly. “Oh, yes! Lambert told me all about you!”

Jaskier’s brows rose and if it was possible, Lambert felt even more embarrassed.

“Umm – he did?” The hairdresser asked back, clearly surprised.

Vesemir nodded.

“Yes, he did. And we’ve decided that we'll get some barista-grade oat milk so you can enjoy lattes, cappuccinos and flat whites too if you wish. It hardly seems fair to deprive you of these options! Now is there anything else you’re looking for in particular?”

Jaskier’s face lit up in visible delight.

“Yes, actually! Um – Sabrina – is it ok if I stay here to converse with Vesemir..?”

“Converse away!” The beautician said, throwing him a wink. “Have a nice day! Bye!”

Jaskier returned her ‘goodbyes’ before he turned back to Vesemir. The older man invited Jaskier to sit into one of the armchairs, and he himself rolled up his chair to the other side of the coffee table so they were sitting at a comfortable distance.

Lambert went back behind the counter – _someone_ had to be there in case another customer came in and it was clear that the two of them were having a private conversation anyway….

But he stayed within earshot, in case he had to protect his Dad from Jaskier’s annoying questions or his indignant, judicious rants about the virtues of _veganism_ or some such nonsense…!

Even the mere thought made Lambert’s blood boil.

_The privileged son of a bitch!_

Lambert was happy when he could eat or drink _anything_ when he was a child – living in the care system – _period!_

Never mind being picky about his ‘preferred type’ of food or beverages… He used to go hungry at _so many_ of his foster placements… and whenever he would complain to social workers, they would think he was exaggerating, because he wasn’t visibly underweight (thanks to the food he would get at school, as many of his friends couldn’t finish their lunches and he would eat their scraps as well…).

But of course a pristine, privileged, white collar guy like Jaskier wouldn’t know what that was like.

He poured all of his frustrations into scrubbing the countertop until it gleamed – just like Vesemir had taught him to do.

“Umm, yes, so…” Jaskier said, stumbling over his words. “I have to admit, I am not an expert on fine coffee, but Yennefer, my boss says that yours, here at _Kaer Morhen_ is the best in town–”

“Yennefer is very kind,” Vesemir interjected, humble as always.

“Is she really?…" Jaskier asked back,and Lambert couldn't help the slight snort that escaped him. Ok, at least the guy had spunk... 

"Anyway!" Jaskier continued. "I was wondering if ... – I would like to learn how to appreciate coffee. I am very sensitive to the bitter tastes in general, but I am reliably told that coffee does not _have to be_ bitter – so I thought, maybe there is hope for me yet!” Jaskier said with a little laugh. “Perhaps – could you show me some variations with a milder flavour?”

Vesemir nodded amicably. “Certainly. How long is your break?”

“Not very long, unfortunately.” Jaskier admitted. “But I thought maybe I could… try one coffee each day? I could come by each morning and I would try whatever you suggested me to try – I would be very grateful…”

“Certainly.” Vesemir said, smiling at him.

“Great!” Jaskier replied, beaming. Then suddenly, he looked up as if remembering something. “Oh umm – I’m afraid I’ve ruined one coffee today already, as Lambert had reliably informed me, because I had mixed it with some warm soy milk I’d brought from home…”

Lambert bristled at hearing that – fuck this guy, he was basically _telling on him_ to his father!

Where were they, in preschool?!!

Thankfully, Vesemir didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, nonsense!” Vesemir said. “Coffee is never ruined. It’s merely altered… But Lambert is right in the sense that mixing milk into coffee will definitely weaken its taste. As counter-productive as that may sound, I think you would learn what types of coffee you like much more quickly and easily if you drank them in their pure form: as espressos, or cold brews or long black coffee, even – depending on the type. And if you start with those, that will give us a chance to develop our oat milk latte making skills too – hopefully, we will be able to make you one in a week or so. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“That sounds splendid!” Jaskier replied without hesitation. “Thank you, Vesemir!” He looked towards the counter, catching Lambert’s gaze, who turned away immediately. “I see Yennefer was indeed right when he’d said that you’d be able to help me. I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow morning for my first ‘coffee tasting’. Goodbye, Vesemir. Bye-bye, Lambert!”

“Goodbye…” Lambert murmured between his teeth.

As soon as Jaskier had left the shop, Vesemir looked up at Lambert.

“Looks like I just got us a regular customer. I trust you’ll at least be civil with him from now on?”

“He’s not civil with me!” Lambert protested half-heartedly, before he relented and shrugged. “Okay… I’ll do my best. I was doing my best so far as well…”

“I do not doubt it,” Vesemir said sincerely. “And I don’t wish to make your life any harder. But this Jaskier boy seems like a decent fella. Maybe you’ve just gotten off on the wrong foot. Give him another chance, Lambert.”

_As if you’d allow me to disagree…_

“Okay, I will.” He said grudgingly.

Vesemir gave him a genuine smile in return – one that made Lambert feel much-much happier all of a sudden.

It was worth it putting up with annoying customers if it made Vesemir happy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter... and the cast is slowly introduced. :) 
> 
> The next chapter will focus on portraying Lambert's backstory in more depth, so his motivations and reactions will become clearer.
> 
> Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated to bits as always! :) Thank you for the comments left on previous chapters so far!


	4. Bringing the Past Into Light

After work that day, Lambert needed to do something to relax – so he indulged in what he liked to do best: cooking.

Yes, it wasn’t a very manly hobby, but it was damn useful. Especially for someone like him who grew up in the care system – going from children’s homes to foster placements and back… He never stayed long anywhere – not until Vesemir had finally adopted him at age 14 – but cooking? That was a skill that all adults appreciated, no matter where he was staying… And it was useful for himself too; if the caregivers around him couldn’t be bothered to make him dinner, at least he could cook one himself…

He had learnt how to cook from a sweet, elderly lady. She must have been well into her sixties by the time Lambert met her, at age eleven. She was an amazing cook and gave Lambert something he had never known before: food that was _actually_ tasty.

He offered to help her out because her eyesight was rather poor and she had cut herself while chopping vegetables and dicing onions on multiple occasions. She taught him the basics, on the condition that he would be careful and only ever work under her supervision.

She was like the grandmother Lambert had never had. But that was too good to be true, of course…

Lambert was moved out of that foster placement abruptly when the elderly lady had fallen ill. It was too bad really, because she had told him that he could stay as long as he wanted to… and Lambert knew that she had meant it.

But fate was a bitch.

He decided to cook something simple: mushrooms stroganoff with ground beef. It was a simple, cheap but hearty meal, and it would be all the more special because Lambert had scored some steak-mince that was on offer at his local supermarket. The steak-meat would add a lovely extra burst of flavour to the sauce, just like the mushroom mix he had picked up: Portobello and some other kinds he didn’t recognise. Vesemir would be delighted, he knew. The old man loved beef stroganoff.

While he was cooking, he also made a quick job of emptying the dishwasher. No point leaving it for later.

That was the thing really – he mused.

Vesemir always insisted that he would be fine living on his own – but Lambert knew that wasn’t true, really. For example, his Dad was unable to unload the dishwasher on his own, because the shelves where they stored the plates and cups was too high for him to reach. Yes, they could have changed that around – but it would have taken work.

And also: the old man couldn’t cook for shit. Well – okay, he could make the basics, but if he was left to his own devices, he would eat sausages with potatoes for lunch pretty much daily… It was not a healthy diet.

Lambert could ‘force’ Vesemir to eat better by cooking for him, because the old man was a good sport that way: if anyone else cooked for him, he ate whatever was placed in front of him gratefully. _Especially_ , if the dish contained something he liked – like meat or potatoes… so Lambert always made sure to incorporate those into the food he made.

The stroganoff was cooking away soundly now. Lambert decided that he would try and add a bit of the leftover red wine he had on hand. As he reached to grab the bottle from the fridge, his fingers slipped and the bottle shattered on the floor.

“Oh, son of a whore!!!” He cursed, as he quickly grabbed an empty trash bag and began gathering up the pieces. At least there wasn’t much liquid to mop up. There couldn’t have been more than an ounce of wine left in there…

As he was cleaning, his eyes fell onto the deep cuts that crossed one of his wrists – courtesy of a particularly violent foster father he’d once had the misfortune of knowing.

The fucker had threatened to kill him with a broken beer bottle - because Lambert had _dared_ to change channels on the TV, distracting him from his precious football match.

Lambert dared him to try.

That had turned out to be a mistake because the guy was drunk off his ass - and he _did_. Try. 

But he didn’t succeed, because Lambert protected his neck with his hand – but it left a deep cut. He had needed ten stitches to close that wound, and it took months for the nerves and sinews in his wrist to re-mould themselves.

But that pain was nothing in comparison with other, deeper hurts: things that happened to him later.

By the time Vesemir had adopted him, Lambert had just turned fourteen and he wasn’t a happy teenager. He had joined the group of ‘troubled kids’ at his new school and soon enough, he was skipping classes with them almost every day. He tried every drug that was available to them. And then he tried some more.

Vesemir would try to stop him, but he couldn’t supervise Lambert 24/7.

There were many things he had done that he had never told the old man. Like the fact that he had no recollection of his first sexual experience – he could remember being dragged into a room while they were at a house party, and then waking up with a sore ass. His friends were thankfully able to tell him who the guy was that had done that to him. Lambert had put the fucker into hospital. He got excluded for two weeks for that, but surprisingly, they didn’t expel him. The boy had changed schools though – smart kid…

After he had lost his V-card, Lambert began to sleep around, because he figured – he may as well enjoy it, if he couldn’t control it 100% anyway. He never got drunk enough to be taken advantage of again, but he did sleep with some assholes who would rough him up – and looking back on it now – objectively treated him like dirt. He didn’t know better at the time, so he had put up with it.

There was one guy in particular, who had introduced him to BDSM. He had claimed that Lambert was “the perfect masochist” and that he was just “a pain slut”, and that he would be craving it for all his life, and he’d keep coming back to him because no one could hand out pain like he could (because he was the best damn’ Dom, or some shit).

Lambert had ditched him after the first session, when the guy tied him up and proceeded to beat him with a riding crop until his whole body was covered in black and purple bruises – ignoring Lambert’s requests to ‘stop’… The fucker wouldn’t untie him either. In the end, the guy raped him – not too badly thankfully, because he had a small prick – and Lambert had to sweet talk him into untying him by pretending that he wanted to give the guy a massage or some other nonsense. Thankfully it had worked – and as soon as his hands were free, he had given the guy a very satisfying punch in the face. Luckily, he caught him by surprise, so the blow landed perfectly. Lambert managed to grab his pants from the floor and let himself out of the guy’s apartment before he could have caught up with him.

That had been a close one…

But of course, none of these compared to his biggest fuckup ever: the one that caused Vesemir's injury...

Lambert had been addicted to various drugs since he had turned sixteen (and to alcohol before then). But his stupidest move ever was when he finally gave in and tried injecting heroin at age twenty. He figured he had tried everything else – he could try this once too.

And yes, he could have… but it was so unbelievably pleasant, relaxing and _good_ …

Physically, he wasn’t dependent on the stuff after having used it once or twice, but he just _craved_ that feeling of utter peace that it brought.

Heroin helped him forget that he was a kid that nobody wanted. That he had been raped. That he had no prospects in life, and no one by his side… (Or so he’d thought.)

And that would have been fine, but unlike other drugs, heroin was _expensive_ as shit. Lambert racked up a debt with his local supplier faster than he could blink. He did whatever he could to pay it back: he took odd jobs, and then when he got too sick to do that, he would trade blowjobs for money… hell, he even ‘borrowed’ from friends and acquaintances (with no intention of ever giving their money back, of course..)

But it wasn’t enough. His debt was well into the four-zero figures now. Lambert hadn’t know that but it got so bad that he became a priority, apparently.

They roughed him up – which was fine. Lambert knew they wouldn’t kill him, because they needed him alive if they wanted their goddamn money. He told them so: he told them that he had no one, that he was adopted and his adoptive dad was poor as well, so they couldn’t expect anyone else to pay his debts off for him. He hoped that they’d see reason.

But instead, the next day, they had set their house – _Vesemir’s house_ \- on fire.

Eskel and Geralt weren’t home thankfully – they had moved out years ago. Vesemir was the only person who was at home at the time, and unfortunately, he had been asleep. The old timber house caught fire like a pile of tinsel. It was a miracle Vesemir had woken up at all – he woke up due to the warmth of the flames and because he was a light sleeper. He had looked around, noted that the whole room was on fire (he never closed the bedroom door because he liked to listen for the sound of Lambert arriving home – whenever that happened to be --- _stupid, stupid – my fault!_ ). He managed to get up from bed, but he was lightheaded from all the smoke he must have inhaled in his sleep. He opened the window and he fell out of it – which would have been fine, if not for the fucking little garden fence – Vesemir’s back landed on that.

His spinal cord was crushed at the L1 level – it was a miracle it wasn’t severed completely – which meant that he couldn’t move his legs much; couldn’t bend his knee and had little to no motor control below that. He gradually regained some movement in his thighs, and also some control over his bladder and his bowel functions, thankfully. It wasn’t perfect, but Vesemir was more than pleased with his progress when he had finally mastered that.

It had been horrible – having to watch that. As soon as Lambert got the news that his dad was in hospital (his condition critical but stable), he had rushed there and was greeted by Eskel and Geralt, who told him what happened.

Lambert knew that this was the work of those fucking gangsters who had beaten him up the day before.

It took all of Eskel’s and Geralt’s bodily strength combined to keep Lambert from running off to find and kill those sons of bitches - right then.

But of course they had to be fucking reasonable.

Well – that, and Geralt gave him a huge punch in the gut – that had helped too.

But it was Eskel’s words that stuck with him.

“Listen up, you idiot! You can’t help Dad by killing those guys and landing yourself in jail for the next twenty years! And in any case – do you think they would leave that un-avenged? Look what had happened just ‘cuz you forgot to pay your fucking bills!! If they didn’t kill Dad this time, they’d surely succeed next time – and you wouldn’t even be around to help, because you’d be rotting in a jail cell, you _genius!”_

“So what should I do???” Lambert hollered back. “Should I just let them walk?!”

“No!” Eskel retorted, growing visibly agitated now. “For fuck’s sake, Lambert! Do something useful for once: just stay home and take care of Dad! What if he gets paralysed, huh?? The doctor’s said that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t walk again… He'll need you to be around, damnit!”

Lambert couldn’t help scoffing at that.

“ _As if_ he’d want me around after _this_ …!”

Eskel made a face that made Lambert stop in his tracks: his brother looked genuinely shocked.

“Lambert – you can’t seriously believe that… Surely you realise that Dad loves you…? He cares about you so much… he would be devastated if you disappeared…! Or worse, if you got hurt… especially if it would be because you were trying to avenge what had happened to him. You know him- you think he’d want that?”

That made Lambert pause: because that much was true. Vesemir had always despised violence. He believed in the value of perseverance, and hard, honest work.

“But I need to _do_ something, Eskel!” Lambert shot back angrily. “I can’t just sit here…”

“Yes, you can!” Eskel declared, voice bearing no argument. “You can and you will. Because this is the only way you can apologise to him – you hear me?? Not by causing more trouble – but by staying put and dealing with the consequences!”

Lambert had broken down sobbing by then, because he knew that his brother was right.

They never caught the guys who burned Vesemir’s house down. Infuriatingly, the old man didn’t even care.

“We got a full pay-out by the insurance company – I consider that victory,” The Vesemir had later said, smiling. “That old house would have needed a thorough renovation anyway. Thank the heavens I hadn’t started on that earlier!”

Instead of buying another house, they moved into the small space above the coffee shop, converting it into a two-bedroom flat. It was enough for Lambert and Vesemir; Eskel and Geralt had their own separate place anyway, and the two of them rarely had any other guests.

By the time dinner was ready, Lambert was in a bit of a low mood. Thinking about the past always made him feel like crap – yet there was some sort of morbid satisfaction he felt from doing it.

Perhaps that Dom guy had been right – maybe he was a masochist after all. A glutton for punishment…

Lambert slapped his own face, to try and snap himself out of his stupor.

“Dinner’s ready!” He called, setting the table quickly.

“Mmm, that smells delicious!” Vesemir said, rolling himself in from his own room. “Beef stroganoff?”

“You hit the nail on the head,” He replied, smirking. “Tuck in, old man.”

However, instead of helping himself to some stew, Vesemir reached across the table, placing his hand on top of Lambert’s.

“Thank you, Lambert.” He said, with an oddly intense expression.

Lambert felt flustered – as if he’d been caught red-handed – and looked away quickly… but he felt warmed by the gesture nonetheless, even as he grumbled:

“It’s nothing… Eat before it gets cold.”

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!!  
> Finally, a long update!!!  
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter although it was very Angst-y... There are better things coming for Lambert, I promise!  
> In the next chapter, Lambert will meet Jaskier again, and they will be talking about coffee - and other stuff perhaps ;)
> 
> Toss a comment to your Writer! ~~~


	5. The First Taste

The next morning was much like the previous one: Geralt, Eskel and Yennefer arrived first as always.

Lambert could feel himself beginning to tense as the hours passed, because he knew that Jaskier was due to return soon. And based on the way Vesemir was refusing to leave the kitchen, he apparently expected Lambert to deal with the eccentric hairdresser…

Maybe it was some sort of twisted test? To test if he could be level-headed with customers, and he would fire him if he failed to keep his cool?

But no, surely, Vesemir would have been more direct about shit like that… The old man always said that he was happy with Lambert’s work, so he tried to remind himself of that.

Finally, Jaskier showed up at 10.30am – on his own this time.

The disappointment was visible on the stylist’s face when he stepped inside and saw that there was only Lambert around today (well, him and a few customers sitting across the shop).

“’Morning!” Jaskier greeted him curtly but politely.

“Good morning,” Lambert returned. “So – ready to try a coffee without milk today?”

Lambert winced internally – he didn’t mean his words to come out as sarcastic or condescending but he quickly realised that they did sound that way regardless…

_Crap – get a grip on yourself!! Just be civil. Be civil…_

“Yes, indeed,” Jaskier replied, hesitating for a second. “Umm – shouldn’t you get Vesemir? I-I don’t want to burden you, if—I know you don’t really like me…”

The guy almost appeared bashful – which made absolutely no sense to Lambert. Where was the haughtiness Jaskier had shown in the past couple of days?

He recovered quickly.

“No – well – I hope it’s okay if I will be the one preparing the coffees for you. Because – Vesemir doesn’t actually do any of the brewing. He does the roasting and aging of the coffee beans.”

“Ah, I see!” Jaskier said, flushing. “Oh – sorry, I assumed --- nevermind!” He seemed to steel himself before he looked up at Lambert with a cockier, more self-assured expression. “Okay, so – hit me! I will have the coffee to drink here, so I can give it a fair chance – no rushed sips and all that…”

Lambert could not hide his amusement as the guy babbled away a touch defensively.

It was apparent that he had managed to intimidate Jaskier… he respected their coffee now.

_Good._

“Take a seat, I’ll bring it over when it’s ready,” He said, motioning over to the armchair Jaskier had chosen to sit in yesterday.

Lambert set to work immediately, preparing a mildly roasted batch that had distinct floral notes. It was best enjoyed as an espresso, so he decided to stick with that. The freshly brewed, creamy espresso smelled delectable. It had just the right amount of slight foam on top.

“Here you go,” He said, setting the tray down in front of Jaskier. “I’ve put one sugar there – I’d suggest you try it black first, but after the first sip, you are welcome to put a little sugar in there if you need it. It’s a matter of personal preference.”

“That’s… very thoughtful of you. Thank you!” Jaskier said earnestly, looking up at him with an easy smile.

“It’s fine.” Lambert replied curtly, turning around and going back to his work station.

He did his utter best not to eye Jaskier… it was rude to stare at customers, particularly if you were part of the staff. He couldn’t resist stealing some sneaky glances at him though… just to see his initial reaction – would he like the coffee? Would he not?

He noticed that Jaskier hasn’t touched the coffee yet and was fiddling with his phone instead –

Oh -he was taking a picture of the coffee… maybe he would put it on his Instagram, or some such nonsense (Lambert didn’t use any social media).

Instead of being annoyed, he felt slightly amused, and he continued watching Jaskier from the cover of the coffee machine with even more interest.

The photo was done in a minute or two, to his credit. And then all of Jaskier’s attention was focused on the drink itself. He lifted the cup and brought it to his lips… tasted it…

And he _moaned_.

Lambert could feel a shiver run up his spine at the sound and he pulled himself back into the safety of his cover – because -

_Holy fucking shit._

_That_ \---- sounded indecent.

Definitely indecent! Almost pornographic…

And Jaskier didn’t stop moaning as he drank the coffee.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so much ' _moaning'_ as a happy, satisfied humming – but to Lambert’s ear, that sounded pretty damn similar.

He wondered if Jaskier made noises like that in bed too…

Or perhaps he was the silent type? – He somehow doubted that...

Maybe he would be even louder? His moaning high-pitched, like it was for that initial second when he’d just tasted the coffee and he’d been caught off guard by how _good_ it was, no doubt---

But _fuck_ , _what was he doing?!_

He shook himself bodily.

He _should not_ be thinking about the guy like that!

He was annoying. And _vegan_.

And anyway… He wasn’t gay.

No, Lambert was definitely bi. And with two gay brothers, he had long decided that he couldn’t _afford_ to be gay, really.

Somebody should be “normal” out of the three of them.

Vesemir never said anything, but Lambert was pretty sure that deep down he would have _preferred_ it if Lambert ended up with a gal. He always made concerned faces when Lambert used to sneak around, disguising his male lovers as “friends” when he was still in his teens.

Ever since Vesemir’s accident, he had decided that he wouldn’t give Vesemir anymore grief – and this was part of that. He hadn’t dated any guys since the accident. He didn’t even go to clubs anymore…

He was okay with his short flings with women. It was enough. It satisfied him just as much as being with a guy did.

(Although yes, sometimes he would watch gay porn. Because why not?

He _was_ bisexual afterall.

He could date women and enjoy gay porn. That was fine.)

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a sudden clang on the counter-top as a tin tray was placed down on it.

“Ah there you are!” Jaskier said, giving him a relieved smile that seemed much more honest than his earlier ones had been. Lambert felt caught off-guard by it, and he noted with surprise that Jaskier had returned the tray and his cup - which was unnecessary of course, he could've done that for him..... 

“Thank you, that was great! I am looking forward to what you show me tomorrow. But this is a firm favourite. What was the name of this?”

Lambert explained which batch the espresso was made of, but also the technical language Jaskier should use if he wanted to request a similar espresso at other places in the future, or if he wanted to purchase some for himself for at-home use.

“Thank you, _Lambert_.” Jaskier said, in that smooth, melodious voice of his.

It was just a simple 'thank you'... it shouldn't have affected him-- 

But there it was _again:_ a slight shiver ran through him as he nodded in acknowledgement.

And when he looked up, he could have sworn that there was a subtle glint in Jaskier’s eyes as he returned his gaze, lips slightly parted.

It was all just a touch too intense to be coincidental... Almost _flirtatious..._

_Could it be?_

Lambert was nearly tempted to look behind himself to check that Geralt wasn’t standing there.

Geralt had always been the ‘ _good-looking one’_ out of the three of them… Women and men hit on him wherever he went… 

But no one had ever made a move on _him_. Yes, some people would return his advances.. Lambert knew that he wasn't ugly per se...

But he wasn’t attractive enough to be receive advances without trying ( _hard_ )…

And even if he was being generous, it was obvious that Jaskier was _way_ out of his league – not just looks-wise, but career-wise and so on…

He must have imagined it.

They exchanged their goodbyes and went on their respective ways. Lambert suddenly became busy, because the lunch-hour rush was starting; lots of busy professionals crammed themselves into the tiny space of their shop to grab their caffeine hit before heading back to their offices.

Surprisingly, even that felt okay today though. He kept remembering Jaskier’s humming as he worked… 

Apparently, the guy wasn't completely hopeless - maybe he would learn to like coffee yet.

Lambert was definitely looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo, the flirting has begun!!! ;))) And maybe these two are warming up to each other???!! Could it be???
> 
> There will be more lovely Jaskier/Lambert banter in the next chapter, and I have a surprise in store too! ;) I can't wait to share it with you guys! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are love <3


	6. A Haircut

The following days passed relatively eventlessly. Jaskier would come by, get his coffee. Now that they were on the same page, Lambert found he actually didn’t mind the guy. He was even funny in his own way. Jaskier would share stories about weird customers he’d met, and Lambert would tell his weirdest stories in return – and before he knew it, he was actually having fun! Way more fun than he’d had in a long while.

Just as they were about to part, Jaskier squinted a little bit and looked at him for a long second.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Lambert asked, turning towards the reflective surface of the coffee machine to check if he had accidently smudged some coffee grounds onto himself.

“No, just…” Jaskier seemed to hesitate for a second, before he continued, decided. “You need a haircut.”

Lambert scoffed. _Wow. He sure doesn’t sugar-coat things…_

“Eh… okay?” He replied, shrugging. “Thanks for the tip, I guess - I’ll get it sorted.”

“Ah, no, sorry- I meant---!“ Jaskier added, looking slightly flustered. “That since you need one, perhaps _I_ could do that for you?”

“At that fancy salon of yours?” Lambert asked, pointing over at _Lilac and Gooseberries_ which, with its sparkling ivory exterior, clearly signalled it’s price point as ‘exactly as fucking expensive as you’d imagine such high end shit usually is’…

But Jaskier didn’t seem to be getting the message. He just nodded simply.

“Yes. I don’t actually have any more openings today, but I could squeeze you in tomorrow evening if that would suit you?”

Lambert sighed – oh, fuck, this was gonna be _awkward_.

“Thanks, Jaskier, but… I would rather not spend a bunch of money on a haircut – no offense meant at all! Just… well – usually, I trim it by myself at home---”

To his surprise, Jaskier burst out laughing at that point.

“Oh, _thank goodness!_ ” The stylist exclaimed emphatically. “I was sure hoping you weren’t _paying_ for this, because frankly, it is _atrocious!_ ”

Lambert couldn’t help it then, he cracked up as well.

“Oh, thanks! None taken, none taken, of course!” He said, smirking at the guy. _He looks good when he’s laughing. It suits him._

“But you’ve misunderstood me,” Jaskier interjected quickly. “I meant that I would be happy to cut your hair - free of charge!”

Lambert became sombre, feeling wary all of a sudden. He never liked ‘free’ things, because he had been disappointed by them too many times in the past… Usually, they came with expectations and unforeseen drawbacks – so no, he preferred paying for shit, whenever he had the opportunity to choose.

Jaskier must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere because he spoke up again:

“Please, I would _love_ to cut your hair, just to show you what it could look like! You know, hair to me is like coffee is to you,“ The stylist added excitedly, motioning at himself and then at Lambert in turn. “I am good at it and I take pride in doing it! It really wouldn’t be any trouble…”

Lambert felt a surge of warmth – because Jaskier had basically just complimented him on his coffee-making skills, hadn’t he? – but he still did _not_ like the way this sounded. It felt way too one-sided… 

_Fuck_ , he hoped he wouldn’t offend Jaskier – he thought.

“Thanks, but I really wouldn’t feel good about letting you work for free.” He said, trying his best to let him down gently. “It just isn’t right – you had paid for all of your coffees here… It’s only fair- ”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s face lit up.

“Okay, so – give me a free coffee tomorrow! A coffee for a haircut – a fair exchange!” Jaskier explained, beaming.

Lambert couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him at that.

“Pfft, _hardly!_ Making a coffee takes me what, two minutes? But cutting my hair – I assume you’re gonna spend absolute _ages_ on that—”

Jaskier gave a jovial wave with his hand.

“Okay-okay then, how many coffees do you feel would qualify as fair payment in exchange for a haircut?”

Lambert made a thinking face, pretending to deliberate for a while before he looked at Jaskier with utter seriousness: “Two.”

Jaskier burst out laughing, again, and Lambert could feel himself beginning to grin as well. Jaskier’s happiness was infectious.

“Two it is, then!” Jaskier conceded, nodding enthusiastically. “Careful, I’ll take you by your word!”

“Be my guest!” Lambert replied easily.

“Okay, so – 6pm tomorrow?”

Lambert nodded. “6pm it is.”

* * *

Lambert felt super nervous come 6pm the next day. He had washed his hair to make sure it didn’t smell sweaty or something – because working next to the coffee machine that puffed and steamed away all day he could get quite hot some days, and he knew the scent would get stuck in his hair.

And yes, usually he wouldn’t have been bothered with washing his hair before going for a hair appointment…

But - well…

Fuck, okay – he had to admit it: yes, he fancied Jaskier, _a little bit._

That did not mean that anything would ever come of his attraction towards the guy, but at least he could give it a chance…

There was no harm in doing that, he supposed.

At the agreed time, he closed the shop behind himself and he crossed the street, striding up to the front of _Lilac and Gooseberries_. Lambert attempted to peer in through the shop’s display window, but he could not see Jaskier no matter how much he craned his neck, only some other staff members. _Hopefully, he hadn’t forgotten it and he’ll be there._

Lambert braced himself as he pushed the salon’s door open and stepped inside.

The first thing that hit him was the overwhelming cacophony of smells in there: flowery, powdery and rich. It smelled _expensive_. Also: the lights were quite bright, so he couldn’t see much as his eyes adjusted to the light.

He made his way over to the waiting area, trying to appear as casual as he could. Once he was sitting, he finally had a chance to take a proper look around the room –

Lambert breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Jaskier. _Great_ , so the stylist hadn’t stood him up… That was something…

He noted with some surprise that Jaskier was still working on some lady’s sopping wet hair – which looked nowhere near finished.

 _Must be running late_ – Lambert thought _. Good thing I’m not in a hurry._

He grabbed one of the magazines off the coffee table, trying to distract himself, instead of ogling Jaskier as he worked…

Which was of course, futile – especially after Jaskier turned his back to Lambert and he discovered that Jaskier was wearing sinfully tight pants that looked like leather, and hugged the curve his arse perfectly… _Fuck_. Lambert could feel himself beginning to stir in his pants at the sight, so he quickly brought his attention back to the tabloid he was holding, until his erection had subsided.

As he continued to observe the guy (taking _several_ breaks in-between, to make sure no one noticed), Lambert noted a few things:

Firstly, Jaskier was super polite. Even though the lady he was currently working on seemed tense and argumentative, Jaskier always replied with a polite little smile, and actually managed to put his customer at ease – which was no small feat in Lambert’s eyes. He’s never had much luck with doing that.

The other thing he noticed was that Jaskier had _very_ nice hands. With beautiful, long fingers, and graceful dainty wrists, they were the polar opposites of Lambert’s own calloused, broad pair.

His legs were also something to behold: long, lean and nicely shaped, and his arse was the cherry on top of course: so round and luscious…

Also, he had a beautiful face and beautiful hair and beautiful eyes…

He was gorgeous. Period.

The effect was made all the more remarkable because he was in his natural environment. It was clear that he was working hard: his movements were efficient and quick as he worked with the scissors, grabbing the clippers or a comb occasionally when he needed them. Every move was calculated, seeming to have been born out of years of experience. But he never seemed rushed; it was quite relaxing to watch him working, Lambert found.

It was almost 6.45 by the time Jaskier had finished, and he walked over to Lambert.

“Hey, Lambert - I am very-very sorry for the long wait! This lady is one of Yen’s regulars, but Yen’s left early today, so as the second-in-charge, I _had_ to see to her…”

“Hey - no problem,” Lambert said, holding his hands up. “I am not paying for this, afterall!” He added with a little smirk, hoping to put Jaskier at ease.

It seemed he had succeeded, because Jaskier grinned broadly at that.

“Oh, that’s _not_ true! I already took half my payment this morning, and what a cold brew it was! Now come on, follow me!” Jaskier said, motioning him towards his workstation, and then indicating for Lambert to take a seat in the swivel chair.

“So – what are you looking for? Do you have any idea about the sort of style you’d want?” Jaskier asked.

Lambert felt totally caught off guard by the question – he hadn’t expected to have to say _anything!_

“Errrm, whatever you think would suit me?” He asked, glancing at Jaskier’s face in the mirror.

That was apparently a good answer, because Jaskier smiled.

“Oh, great! I get a free hand! Don’t worry, I won’t do anything extreme. I’ll just do some shaping, and perhaps I could trim your bread as well?”

Calling what Lambert was currently sporting a “beard” was generous. It looked like a rat’s nest, really. Usually he shaved once every few months or so, whenever he got fed up with trimming his moustache so that it wouldn’t dangle into his food when he was eating or drinking.

His current beard must have been the result of three months’ worth of growth at least.

“Yeah, sure, go for it.” Lambert said quickly, hoping to end the discussion there.

“Great, so let get your hair washed.”

Lambert didn’t bother with explaining that he had just washed it yesterday, he figured Jaskier may still prefer to use his own products, so he just went along with the process.

Usually, he hated having his hair washed at the barbers, but surprisingly, Jaskier was better at it than most. His fingers were gentle but sure, and he made sure not to use his nails when he scrubbed Lambert’s scalp gently. He used some fancy shampoo that smelled like oranges and herbs, and to his surprise, Lambert enjoyed that as well. When it came time to rinse his hair, the water was just the perfect temperature, and Jaskier used plenty of it making sure to get every last bit of shampoo out. Then he used something else which Lambert assumed may have been conditioner, and repeated the rinsing process again.

By the time they were done, Lambert felt pleasantly relaxed. Jaskier instructed him to return to his chair, so he did, holding the towel that Jaskier handed him on his head, until the stylist took it from him, patting his head and neck down with it gently before discarding it.

“Allright! Here we go.”

And just like that, Jaskier got to work, quickly and efficiently. He would sometimes instruct Lambert to tilt his head this way or that way, but otherwise – thankfully - he didn’t seem to be a fan of idle chit-chat, to Lambert’s utmost relief. He had always hated having to chat with barbers, even if it was just about the weather or football or some shit.

At some point, Jaskier had turned him so that he was facing away from the mirror and he kept him at that angle while he finished cutting Lambert’s hair and then continued onto trimming his beard. As a finishing touch, Jaskier had put some products onto both – he had explained what he was using as he did that, but Lambert really couldn’t recall any of the products’ names afterwards. He had been too distracted by the way Jaskier’s fingers felt as they were playing with his hair, zhushing it, and then arranging it carefully before he used a little bit of hairspray to fix the finished style.

Lambert hadn’t seen his hair since the early stages of the cut, so when Jaskier finally declared him “done” and allowed Lambert to look at himself in the mirror, he was truly surprised.

“Whoa!” Lambert gasped. “I look _good!_ ” He blurted, before he realised what he was saying and cursed instead. “Oh fucking hell, what sort of sorcery did you do, Jaskier? No barber had ever managed to make [my hair](https://i.pinimg.com/474x/69/ac/5a/69ac5a00dda5037f536b3ddc23e01cd7.jpg) look half as decent as this!” He said, giving the stylist an appreciative look.

Jaskier smiled proudly in return. “I’m glad you like it! I had an easy canvas, to be fair - you have _great_ hair. It’s nice and thick, but easy to manage.”

Lambert scoffed.

“Yeah, right, “ _easy to manage_ ”, because most of it starts at the top of my fucking head!” He said with a grin, pointing at his prominent widows’ peak meaningfully, and then leaning slightly forward to admire his new hairstyle even better in the mirror. “But _holy shit_ , I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve somehow managed to make my fucked up hairline way less obvious – which is a miracle, really!”

Jaskier’s brows furrowed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your hairline.” The stylist replied. “Yes, you have a widows’ peak, but that appears to be genetic. There are certainly no signs of thinning, so you don’t have to worry about that. And the widow’s peak adds character; as a stylist, I like the options it gives, so much cooler than a plain ‘normal’ hairline.” Jaskier said, flushing slightly.

 _Wow, he is a right geek when it comes to hair._ Lambert thought fondly.

“Ah. Thanks?” Lambert said, feeling a bit flustered by Jaskier’s compliment (even if he knew it was addressed to a genetic trait, not himself, really). “That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Great,” Jaskier said, smiling. “Well you are free now! It would be a shame to waste this lovely new do – perhaps you can take it out for a spin? Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?”

Lambert snorted.

“Nah, no chance, I’m staying in… early morning tomorrow – well, the usual, you know!” He said, smirking. For some reason, Jaskier wasn’t smiling, so he felt the urge to say something to cheer him up. “But thanks, Jaskier. Really, it – turned out great. I am very happy with my haircut.”

Lambert was just about to grab his coat and leave, when suddenly, Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Oh, wait! – Well I – what about going out with _me?”_ The stylist asked, looking at him hopefully. “How would you feel about grabbing dinner? I know a nice little Italian place that makes a mean pizza… we could go there, perhaps…?”

Jaskier looked nervous as he waited for Lambert’s reply. Which made no sense – why would be be nervous about inviting him as a friend…?

Suddenly, the puzzle pieces slotted together in Lambert’s head – _oh fuck._

Jaskier had complimented his hair earlier… so maybe the stylist was trying to flirt with him? And he was asking him out on a _date_ right now?

It still made no sense, but who was Lambert to say no to a good thing?

Despite that, he felt a tinge of nervousness run through him at the prospect. If Jaskier was interested in him – that sounded almost too good to be true… he really mustn’t fuck this up…

“Yeah, sure – I’d love to!” He replied quickly.

Too quickly – because then he remembered… _Crap._

“Great, so—” Jaskier started to explain, but Lambert interrupted him:

“Wait, before we do that I’ll just… I’ll pop into the shop to tell Dad that I am going out, so he knows not to await me for dinner.”

Jaskier nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. You were due to visit him?” He asked, face becoming slightly pinched. “It’s fine if you’d rather---”

“No-no-no—” Lambert interjected. “It’s all fine, just – need to let him know.” Fuck, who was he kidding? Jaskier would find out soon enough anyways. – he thought as he made up his mind and added: “I live with him. Above the shop. Above Kaer Morhen?” He said, motioning towards their shop.

Jaskier’s face took on a look of surprise and then comprehension .

“Ahhh – okay! Yeah, sure that’s fine – I need to finish up here, my shift ends at 8 – so,” He said, looking at his watch. “How about we meet outside the shop at 8.15pm?”

“Wait – in front of which shop? This or Kaer Morhen?” Lambert asked back mirthfully. “Wouldn’t want to miss you by accident….”

“Ha- ha, _very funny!_ ” Jaskier replied, but he was smirking too. “Okay then – see you soon!”

“See you soon,” Lambert agreed, nodding goodbye as he turned and left the shop.

As soon as he stepped out into the night air, he took a took breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Fuck. He had a date – for the first time in ages – and it was a date he was actually excited about!!! With a guy he kind-of sort-of liked and who – he was fairly sure – was interested in him… perhaps not just sexually… and hopefully not just as a friend – perhaps he could double-check that while they were out---

“Fuck.” Lambert muttered, smiling as he looked at the steam escaping his nose and his mouth with each breath in the frigid, winter air. “Fuck me!! I’ve got a date… Better dress up.”

That’s right – he hadn’t really considered his outfit when he went for his hair appointment – a grave oversight, as he was realising that in hindsight now – but it was clear that Jaskier liked to dress sharply… perhaps he could wear a shirt?

Fuck, he was looking forward to this way too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! :)   
> I hope you've enjoyed this little update! Jaskier and Lambert are getting closer and closer... but there may still be some hurdles yet! 
> 
> More to come soon!


	7. The Date I.

In the end, Lambert ended up giving dinner to his Dad, ironing a clean shirt, taking a quick shower, _and_ getting dressed - in that order.

All he told his Dad was that he was “going out” but the old man must’ve put two and two together, because when Lambert was getting ready to leave the flat, freshly showered and looking sharp, Vesemir surprised him by calling after him:

“It’s good to see you putting yourself out there again, son. Have fun!”

Lambert could feel himself go red, so instead of turning back, he just nodded and muttered a “thanks”, before practically fleeing the place.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on Vesemir’s kind words, because by the time he stepped onto the street he could see a familiar figure standing there.

“Hello again!” Jaskier called out to him.

“Hey. Eh - I hope I didn’t make you wait too long?”

“Not at all!” Jaskier hurried to assure him. “I was just checking my phone to make sure I had the directions down correctly. It’s only supposed to be a fifteen minute walk to the place, so I thought we could walk – unless --?

“Sure, let’s walk,” Lambert said affirmingly. He felt relieved that at least he wouldn’t need to spend on transport on top of everything else…

They walked in companionable silence for a while, and then Jaskier began to talk about how his day went – which was nice, and they ended up venting about their respective annoyances at their workplaces.

It was all nice and easy – too easy, really, which was again bringing to the fore that niggling doubt in Lambert’s mind – so he decided it was time to face it.

He cleared his throat, trying to make sure he sounded as carefree and casual as he could.

“So, umm – can I just check that - this isn’t just a ‘ _dinner between friends’_ , right?” He croaked out finally – the statement coming out _way_ less easy-going compared the way it had sounded in his own head – _crap…_

Thankfully, Jaskier saved him by replying:

“No – not unless you _want_ it to be…?”

Lambert guffawed in relief.

“Oh thank _fuck_ for that! Not that I’d mind you as a friend – but – well, I was hoping I wasn’t reading you wrong – when --- ” He eyed Jaskier for a second, but the guy seemed eager enough, so Lambert gathered his courage to voice what he had been musing about: “Well, you _were_ coming on to me a bit tonight during the haircut, weren’t you?”

To his surprise, Jaskier laughed.

“I was coming on to you more than “ _a bit_ ”, I believe!” Jaskier replied with an easy smirk. “Gods, I thought I was being so obvious about it!”

“Well it was hard to tell if you were truly flirting with _me_ , or you are just like this with everyone you meet—” Lambert said, giving the stylist a meaningful look. Because yes, from observing Jaskier he knew that the guy was easy-going and charming with just about everyone.

“You’ calling me a flirt?!” Jaskier asked back mock offended.

Lambert suddenly felt bold, and he licked his lips.

“That depends. Are you all talk and no bite?” He asked, looking at Jaskier suggestively – which caused Jaskier’s eyes to darken with lust. “Or do you plan on going through with what you’ve started?”

“The latter,” Jaskier replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

No matter how hard he tried, Lambert couldn’t recall it later which one of them had initiated the kiss – but suddenly, they were kissing – Jaskier proving surprisingly assertive in that department, pressing Lambert up against the nearest wall, which in turn made him rumble in agreement.

Fuck, it was _good_. Jaskier’s lips were soft but firm and he kissed with intent. He was clearly confident in this department, and it showed, which was delightful for Lambert, because it made him feel like he could just let go and trust in his partner to take care of him…

It was over too soon, and they parted, panting in the cold winter air.

“Fuck, that was great,” Lambert muttered with feeling. “Are you sure you want dinner?”

Jaskier must have been thinking along similar lines, because he simply shook his head.

“No, and anyway, we could order in… shall we go back to your place?” The stylist asked, looking at him suggestively.

Lambert froze. _Oh yeah, here comes the crappy part…_ He winced as he replied:

“Hmm well I don’t think that’s a good idea, because the walls are kind-of-thin and Dad’s a light sleeper – so maybe your place if you don’t mind..?”

He felt like a fucking schoolboy for saying this, but well – it was the truth.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t mock him, he just shook his head.

“Okay, yeah, not a problem! Just… we’re going the wrong way in that case, sorry!”

“That’s all right,” Lambert replied. “It’s not like you could’ve known that we’d end up turning back… “ He added teasingly, and enjoyed the way the remark made Jaskier flush ever-so-slightly.

Jaskier began to walk in the opposite direction, as promised, and Lambert was all too happy to follow.

It wasn’t a long walk, but it seemed like it. Lambert couldn’t resist groping Jaskier from time-to-time during the journey, pulling him in for a kiss or two – and Jaskier certainly _wasn’t_ helping matters either, despite his half-hearted protests – he was reciprocating eagerly, making breathy little moans everytime they had to stop…

“Fuck, Lambert! We’ll _never_ get there if you keep this up!”

Lambert nipped Jaskier’s earlobe playfully at that, causing the other man to groan, cursing. “Fuck,--! No, seriously, I _mean_ it – I’ll fuck you in this alley if you don’t cut that out—”

“Shit,” Lambert muttered, feeling a surge of arousal shooting through him at the suggestion.

Jaskier smiled, expression turning predatory all of a sudden. “Oh – maybe you _wouldn’t_ mind? Do you like putting on a show? Putting yourself on display where anyone could see you all naked?” He murmured, leaning even closer to kiss Lambert’s neck as he waited for his reply. “Hmm?”

Lambert hissed. “Fuck- no – just for _you_ … if that would please you…”

“ _Please_ me?” Jaskier repeated, clearly intrigued. “My-my – does that turn you on, perchance? You like to be ordered around? _Told_ what to do?” He whispered, voice taking on a seductive timbre that made Lambert’s skin tingle.

“ _Yes._ ” He replied without hesitation, feeling himself hardening even further from the mere thought of Jaskier doing _just that._

Jaskier hummed in approval.

“Hmm – well, maybe we can talk about this more once we’re home. Now come on, my sweet; we need to get there first.” Jaskier said, prompting Lambert gently into walking, rather than standing, plastered onto him in a tight embrace.

Finally, they made it, they arrived to Jaskier’s ‘home’ – and it was a bit anticlimactic.

The studio apartment was a nice size for one person, but it was eerily empty, almost bare. The place had clearly been renovated recently, but it still lacked a lot of essential furnishings – such as curtains, or a couch or a coffee table… All it contained was the kitchen, a tiny table with two chairs, a door (which Lambert assumed lead into the bathroom) and a double bed.

But the bed was nice and comfortable-looking, Lambert noted. _Good._

“I’ve just moved in recently,” Jaskier said, by way of explanation. “When I got the job… I used to live in the city before—”

“Ahh, that explains your accent,” Lambert said. “I knew you weren’t from around here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jaskier replied, smiling. “Well – should we take care of dinner first?”

Lambert’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, so as much as he wanted to skip food and get to the ‘main course’, he stopped himself from saying so.

“I guess that would be a good idea.”

They both dug their phones out to look at pizza delivery options. Lambert noted with surprise that he didn’t know the place Jaskier had been planning on showing to him – it must have opened relatively recently.

“Oh, they do delivery!” Jaskier noted. “Shall we give it a go?”

Lambert nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

As it turned out, that had been a good idea, because the service was fast and friendly. Their pizzas arrived within half an hour. Lambert had ordered a diavolo with lots of hot peppers and pepperoni, while Jaskier went for a vegan pizza with artichokes, spinach, pesto, pine nuts and mushrooms. Lambert had to admit that it actually looked appetizing, and he said so as well. Jaskier offered him a slice to try, and although he was reluctant at first- because he didn’t want to eat Jaskier’s portion, since it wasn’t as if he could have offered him a slice from his own pizza in return – but at Jaskier’s insistance that this was “way too much” for him anyway, Lambert finally relented and gave the vegan pizza a try.

Just as he’d expected, it was good. The marinated artichoke gave a nice burst of flavour, and even the vegan cheese concoction wasn’t too bad on this pizza (although it tasted nothing like actual mozzarella, of course).

“Wow, you sound like a bit of an expert,” Jaskier noted with surprise. “Did you train to be a chef or something?”

Lambert flushed. “No – just… well, it used to be a dream of mine, to become one, one day. But then… I guess I just wasn’t motivated enough to pursue it.” He finished awkwardly. He wasn’t really keen on explaining the truth, which was: “ _because after finishing high school I became a junkie and ended up getting my Dad’s house burnt down which resulted in him becoming **paralysed** – and his coffee shop almost went bankrupt because of that, so I **had to** help him out”. _ It wasn’t a nice story, no matter how he would have tried to put it.

Thankfully, Jaskier seemed to sense that there was hidden ‘baggage’ here, because he didn’t pry any further, just smirked, sighing wistfully.

“Hmm, that’s a damn shame. I always wished that I’d have a boyfriend who could cook…”

 _A boyfriend?_ Lambert felt a surge of warmth run through him at the implication that Jaskier could have imagined them becoming that close.

“Who said I can’t cook?” He asked back, smirking at his date playfully. “I’ll tell you I’m a _damn_ good cook if I do say so myself! Just because I never went to culinary school doesn’t mean that I didn’t study and hone my skills at home as much as I could.”

“Oh wow! You must show me what you can do one day!” Jaskier replied with a hopeful look.

“I could certainly try.” Lambert agreed, although internally, he was already wondering about how he would go about making an honest-to-God _vegan_ dish.

He would need to do some research before-hand that much was certain… but he guessed it wouldn’t be too hard: the usual rules of cooking would still apply, he would just need to get creative…

They ate in companionable silence. Lambert realised that he must have been quite hungry - he hadn’t eaten since his lunch break, to be fair! The result was that he ended up finishing his whole pizza in about ten minutes flat.

Jaskier gave him a look akin to awe. “Remind me _not_ to invite you to a buffet brunch!” He said, winking at him.

Although he knew that Jaskier was clearly joking, Lambert still felt a pang of hurt at the remark. His appetite had always been a point of criticism at all of his foster placements. That, and his table manners, because, apparently, he wasn’t eating as much as he was _devouring_ his food.

“I can eat a lot,” He replied a touch defensively. “It’s just how I’ve always been.”

To his relief, Jaskier gave him a big smile in response.

“That’s all good with me! I love to eat as well. And anyways, as they say “never trust a skinny cook”! And to me, that means: never trust a chef who doesn’t _love_ to eat!” Jaskier said mirthfully, and Lambert found himself smiling along as well. That did make sense when Jaskier put it like that, and it certainly didn’t sound like Jaskier was criticising or ridiculing him…

To Jaskier’s credit, he _did_ actually finish his pizza as well in the end – and he hummed with gusto while he ate, clearly savouring each bite – so Lambert could tell that he hadn’t been lying just to make him feel better when he had said that he loved to eat.

They cleared their plates away, and Lambert insisted on helping Jaskier with the dishes. That was done quickly, and Lambert was starting to wonder if it was time for him to leave – if maybe Jaskier had changed his mind or perhaps he was too tired to go through with the promise of sex tonight – so he was caught off-guard when Jaskier grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Care for a glass?” The hairstylist asked, looking at him hopefully.

“Yeah sure!” He said, sitting back down to the table eagerly.

The wine helped them both feel more at ease, and before he knew it, they were chatting again.

“Do you have any family, other than your Dad?” Jaskier asked with apparent curiosity.

“Yeah, I’ve got two brothers – who are a dating each other.” Lambert replied with an innocent smirk, as he usually did when dropping this bomb on people.

It never got old.

Jaskier choked on his wine, coughed and heaved before he managed to gasp out:

“What???”

“We’re all adopted, relax!” Lambert drawled. “I was fourteen when I got adopted by Vesemir. Eskel and Geralt – my older brothers – were seventeen and sixteen, respectively, at the time. That’s when they’d first met: after the adoption had gone through. We are all more like friends than brothers, really, but we view each other as “chosen family”, if that makes sense.”

“Oh – yeah, it does.” Jaskier answered slowly, nodding. “Wow, you are full of surprises! What was that like, getting adopted as a teenager? I mean – if it’s okay to ask—”

“It’s fine,” Lambert reassured him quickly. “It was great. I mean – I really wasn’t expecting it at that point. My social worker just told me one day, when I was about thirteen-and-a-half that there was a guy who had applied to adopt me and he had two other teenage sons. I didn’t really care, because there had been _so many_ other candidates, I was sure that this would fall through as well… -when he saw my records or something..- ” He muttered.

“ _Records?_ ” Jaskier repeated carefully.

“Yeah, they hold these files on us, and they’ll share that with the prospective adoptive or foster parents. I was quite a bad kid, always getting into trouble…”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Jaskier interrupted him, smiling at him gently.

Lambert chuckled. “Wow, you are a sappy drunk! Already comforting me…”

“I’m not!” Jaskier protested. “But anyway… okay, so Vesemir adopted you in the end, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Lambert agreed. “It was… nice. Knowing that he knew I wasn’t a perfectly behaved kid but he adopted me anyways. And I like this town. I moved here then; never lived anywhere close to here before that. So it was good, just – a lot to take in…”

Thankfully, Jaskier must have sensed that he wasn’t sure how to continue the story, because he interjected:

“What are your brothers like? Do they live in town?”

Lambert nodded in relief.

“Oh, yes they do. They come to the coffee shop everyday – you may have seen them on the first day you came – the two burly guys? Usually wearing grey or plain black? They’re firefighters, so they prefer to dress simply, since it’s getting covered up by their uniforms most days anyway--”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh, they are the firefighter guys Yennefer is always gushing about?”

It was Lambert’s turn to stare. “’Gushing about’?? Oh-oh… wait until I tell Yen what you’d just told me!! She’ll die from mortification!” Lambert said, grinning. “You see, I’ve always thought that she had a crush on them both, but she’d deny it till her dying breath… except in front of you, apparently!”

“Oh nooo!!” Jaskier said, burying his face in his hands. “Please, please, don’t tell her! I _need_ this job!”

Lambert laughed.

“Ah, dontcha worry! Yennefer is a professional. She would never fire a good employee, even if they were pissing her off to no end. Your job is safe.”

“Well, if you say so.” Jaskier conceded in the end, smiling softly.

Suddenly, the air became hotter between them, Lambert fancied. Before he realised what he was doing, he was sliding his hand across the table and lacing their fingers together – admiring Jaskier’s slim hands contrasting with his own. From this close, he saw things he hadn’t noticed so far: Jaskier had a little bit of what looked like eczema or dryness on his hands. Lambert stroked his fingers over the scaly, raised skin, taking care not to hurt him any further.

“It’s from washing people’s hair all day.” Jaskier said, by way of explanation. “An unfortunate side effect of the job.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Lambert said simply. “You have very pretty hands.”

“Ah – “ Jaskier said, voice clearly surprised. _“Thank you…”_

And there it was again, that beautiful, melodious voice. Lambert wasn’t sure if Jaskier was manipulating his voice on purpose, or it just always became so nice and _smooth_ when he was turned on – but it was driving him mad.

He couldn’t help himself any longer, he leant across the table, closing that last bit of space in between them and capturing Jaskier’s lips in a passionate kiss, which he returned with just as much fervour.

“Let’s get out of here before we knock something over,” Jaskier said, breaking the kiss, and motioning over to the bed. Lambert followed him without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a long-ass chapter so i decided to divide it into two - sorry for the cliffhanger guys! But I promise I'll upload the next part within a day or two.. and *coughs* there will be smut in there!! 
> 
> That's right, the Smut is COMING!!! 😉 Stay tuned!


	8. The Date II.

They both fell onto the bed and began to divest themselves of their clothes – with Jaskier leading by quite a large margin, because he wasn’t wearing a button-up shirt, having opted for a flimsy, frilly see-through top that day.

He also made quick work of his pants, which were much stretchier than they looked, apparently.

“That’s hardly fair!” Lambert protested, when Jaskier laid back on the bed completely naked, looking at Lambert smugly.

“Okay-okay, I’ll help!” The stylist offered, leaning closer to him and undoing the buttons with deft, sure fingers.

A minute later Lambert was naked as well and they were kissing and groping each other again, tangled in a tight embrace this time.

“What do you want?” Lambert ground out – hoping to get some instructions about what Jaskier was expecting of him.

“I’m down for pretty much anything,” Jaskier said, causing Lambert to groan in frustration, because while that sounded _good_ – it was also _bad,_ because he was shit at making decisions…

Thankfully, Jaskier seemed sense his predicament, and he purred into Lambert’s ear:

“Hmm – well – how about I fuck you then? How would you like that, big boy?”

 _“Fuck!”_ Lambert cursed, feeling overwhelmed by the confidence Jaskier exuded: it almost sounded as if he was _telling_ , instead of asking… as if he was sure that Lambert would say ‘yes’… Although Lambert had no doubt that Jaskier would have been open to other suggestions, if he rejected his offer…

But he had no desire to do so.

“Yes, yes, please!” He replied eagerly. And then he remembered an important detail, and winced before adding: “Errr – fair warning – I haven’t done this in a while, so I may need a little more prep than usual…”

“Hmm, I appreciate you telling me that.” Jaskier replied in that velvety voice of his, causing Lambert to shudder. “What does ‘ _in a while’_ mean? A month, a year…?”

Lambert swallowed.

“Hmm – about seven years? Maybe eight...”

“Oh wow!” Jaskier burst out, clearly surprised. “Lambert, are you _sure_ that you want to try this right now? I would be happy to –”

“No – yes, I want it, Jask! I’m sure.” Lambert said, hoping that the man would not mind that he interrupted him quite forcefully. Some Doms could be iffy about that.

_Although Jaskier probably didn’t even view himself as a Dom, he just had a natural penchant for domination –_

“Did you just call me ‘ _Jask’_?” Jaskier asked, smirking.

_Oh, fuck._

He had given Jaskier that nickname in his head, but he hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud...

“I did, sorry-“

“No – don’t apologise – I like it! I’ve never had a nickname before. It’s good!” Jaskier said, looking oddly satisfied. “Say it again.”

Lambert tried, but Jaskier’s hand began to creep onto his buttocks, causing him to sigh and shiver.

“J- _Jask._ ”

“Very good.” Jaskier said, almost crooning and it made Lambert feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He had never met anyone who gave affection as freely as Jaskier before.

It was sort of addicting… and he had an addictive personality, so he _knew_ he should’ve been careful about that –

But then again, Lambert had never been good at self-restraint.

If Jaskier would be his new drug, so be it: he would enjoy the high while it lasted…

He realised that Jaskier had grabbed the lube while he had been musing because suddenly, a slick hand was wrapped around his cock, and Jaskier began to stroke him, lightly at first and then with increasing sureness when he saw Lambert’s reactions.

It took Jaskier an unfairly short amount of time to find a rhythm with his hand that was dangerously good: just the right amount of pressure and slight friction, with a nice even rhythm…

“Oh, yes, fuck--!” Lambert groaned. “Just like that… Give me some lube as well!“

Jaskier did, and Lambert used it to slick up one of his palms, putting it around Jaskier’s cock to return the favour. Now that he had his hand on it, he was able to tell that Jaskier’s cock was similar to his own in size – maybe just a touch longer, and with a slightly smaller girth. But very pleasing all the same: from the long, smooth shaft up to the perfectly flushed, rosy tip, Jaskier’s prick was a sight to behold.

He felt a deep sense of satisfaction when a few short minutes later, Jaskier’s breathing began to stutter as well.

“Fuck – Lambert, that’s _so good_ \--! But ease off if you want me to fuck you—” Jaskier panted in warning.

“Okay-okay--“ Lambert agreed, although that didn’t mean that he stopped his ministrations entirely – he just made his strokes lighter on purpose, so they took on an almost teasing quality. Which was definitely too little to bring him off, but _just_ enough to keep him on the edge.

“ _Fuck_ – Lambert- that’s--!” Jaskier stuttered, panting. “Very-very distracting—”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t distract you – _Dom…_ ” Lambert whispered, enjoying that he was being a brat.

Jaskier shuddered visibly.

“Oh, is that what you’d like to call me. Very well then, _sub._ Now you will stop stroking my cock, or you are _not_ coming tonight.”

Lambert hastened to obey, taking his hand away immediately.

“Well done, sweetling! Look how beautifully obedient you are – so precious, so good for me…” Jaskier crooned, using his clean hand to stroke Lambert’s flank as a reward, while he utilised the other one to give Lambert’s cock a very satisfying squeeze.

Fuck, he felt close to coming from the combination of Jaskier’s words, coupled with the way he was working his cock… If the other wouldn’t have kept alternating the rhythm, he would have blown his load ages ago already…

Just as Lambert’s attention began to drift, Jaskier’s hand stopped, forcing him to re-focus it on his bed-partner.

“Now, before we go any further – safeword?”

 _Of course_ Jaskier would want to know his bloody safeword… Not that Lambert had ever used it before. Or planned to do so _ever_ , really.

“Red.”

“Very good,” Jaskier said, nodding. “That will do just fine. I want you to use it without hesitation if you feel you need to. And say ‘yellow’ if you want to pause, but you don’t want to end the night completely. Okay?” Jaskier asked, giving him a serious look.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Lambert replied. “Now, are you going to fuck me?”

“All in good time, my dear. Now – on your back, and draw your legs up for me.”

Oh, fuck. Lambert had been hoping that he could avoid having to look at Jaskier while they would be doing this part… But apparently, Jaskier had other plans.

He assumed the position, and felt himself flushing in shame at the vulnerability of it. He knew that he would have been just as exposed if he was on his hands and knees, but there was something different – intimate – about seeing Jaskier’s face as well.

Come to think of it, Lambert couldn’t remember ever having had sex in a position where he could see his partner’s face. Not even when he was sleeping around with women – he always preferred to do that doggy style, or in other, more adventurous positions…

“You all right, darling?” Jaskier asked, voice mildly concerned, and Lambert realised that he must have zoned out.

“I’m fine,” He shot back, perhaps with a touch more force than was strictly necessary, because he felt strangely pent up and irritated in that moment. “Get on with it!”

“Your wish is my command,” Jaskier replied smoothly, positioning himself between Lambert’s legs so that he could trail one hand over his balls and then lower, to his hole while use used to other one to grip the base of Lambert’s cock.

“Now just enjoy…” Jaskier murmured darkly, and all of a sudden all of Lambert’s previous nervousness was gone. This was what he wanted: a Dom who knew what he was doing, he wasn’t worried about taking charge, who didn’t ask silly questions such as ‘are you okay?’…

Jaskier didn’t ask anything: he simply began preparing Lambert quickly and efficiently.

Oh, the Dom’s ministrations were still obviously gentle and carefully planned – but it was also clear that he was taking Lambert by his word: that he was trusting him to use his safeword if things got too much. Jaskier wasn’t messing around as if Lambert was a virgin: no, he sank first one, and then two fingers into him quicker than Lambert could have said “bloody fucking hell”. It was too much, but it was perfect – Lambert relished the burn, and he felt himself go rock hard immediately.

Jaskier noticed it too apparently.

“Hmm, you like it rough, huh? Fear not, my sweet, I can certainly give you that… On your hands and knees now!”

Lambert obeyed the command immediately, the minute it was uttered, feeling relieved that he could finally hide his face- the stupid, blissed out expressions he was undoubtably making.

He was caught offguard when in the next second, he felt Jaskier’s knees on his back and his hand on the back of his neck.

“Lower my dear – lower yourself down… that’s it….”

Jaskier’s voice was soft and kind, but to Lambert it sounded as if it was coming from underwater, as if they were both submerged in a pool…

Things were beginning to blur in front of his eyes. Suddenly, he felt what he knew was the echo of stuff that had happened in the past: a guy grabbing him: pushing him down flat on the bed… much stronger hands than Jaskier’s forcing his head into the mattress so he could barely breathe -- -

He could feel an animal sort of panic running through him… but he was also aware that Jaskier was there – and shit, he had stopped now ---

“Lambert – Lambert? Are you okay--?”

It was only a second or two, and then Lambert realised what the problem was – the Dom had backed off now. He had clearly just tried to nudge Lambert into his desired position – and instead of going with it, he froze and became unresponsive for what may have been seconds… He was still kneeling there when he looked around, his limbs tense and locked, ready to fight or flee…

_As if he could – it had already happened, whatever he does now won’t make a damn difference…_

He suddenly felt sick. How fucking screwed was he – that he couldn’t even enjoy a one-night stand with a guy anymore – without having fucking flashbacks to when he was raped when he was 16? For crying out loud, that had been over 12 years ago now! He should be over this already..

“Sorry- I – I’ve got to go!” Lambert mumbled, as he grabbed the clothes he could see around himself, scattered on the floor, dressing himself at record speed. His erection was long gone anyway – he needed to get out of here…

“What?” Jaskier asked, clearly shocked. “What--? Lambert? Where are you going? LAMBERT!”

By the time Jaskier had realised that he was serious, Lambert was at the door and letting himself out at record speed… but that final shout, hearing his name from Jaskier’s mouth brought him to a halt, so he stopped and he looked back at Jaskier one last time:

“Sorry.”

He shut the door behind himself, so he wouldn’t have to see Jaskier’s no doubt enraged expression – Lambert had just given the guy a serious case of blue-balls probably… he probably won’t want to see him again now…

But well – that was fine, because he wouldn’t want to see Jaskier again either- after his own shameful reaction this evening. Jaskier must think that he is a nutcase; and with good reason…

Lambert was only going down the stairs of the apartment building as he mused about this… And suddenly, things were starting to look a bit different in his brain–

Yes, he wanted to get out of there because the flashback was scary, but… perhaps he still should have explained himself to Jaskier before he left…? Because – well… Jaskier may have thought he did something wrong, when that wasn’t the case, at all; it was his own fault for not being able to handle what he had asked for. He asked Jaskier to be rough – this was nothing… It was just… unfortunately very very similar to _that_ particular bad memory, and that’s why…

At the entrance of Jaskier’s apartment building block, Lambert came to a stop. If he left now, he would never come back again – he knew that. If he went back… his chances with Jaskier will still be ruined, but at least they could remain civil around each other… and it won’t be as awkward… and… well, the guy works in Lilac and Gooseberries- it certainly wouldn’t hurt if they got along, since he will be coming to the shop because of Yen and all ---

“Fuck!” He muttered out loud as he took a deep breath, trying to ground himself before turning around on his heel and beginning the long climb back up the stairs.

Once he was at Jaskier’s door, he hesitated for a second, but then forced himself to knock before he could’ve changed his mind. The urge to bolt was still near-overwhelming but he had _knocked_ , he couldn’t leave now---

Lambert didn’t know what he was expecting, but seeing Jaskier in a dressing gown wasn’t among them.

Neither was the relieved expression on Jaskier’s face.

“Thank _God!_ Lambert, come in- just… we don’t have to do anything, I just want to give you some tea, okay?” Jaskier asked, in that stupidly kind voice of his.

“No – that’s – that’s appreciated, but not actually needed, thanks,” Lambert managed to grind out. “I just – just came back, because… Because.” He trailed off, realising that what he actually wanted to say would sound ridiculous without context – and he didn’t really want to explain his backstory – even just the idea made him uneasy again, and it made his heart beat faster…

“Lambert – would you please come in?” Jaskier asked, motioning towards the inside of his apartment. “I would really rather have this discussion there, rather than—” Jaskier gestured around meaningfully, indicating the hallway where they were currently standing. Lambert felt a hot pang of shame hit him.

“Of course! Sorry.” He stepped back into Jaskier’s flat.

“Allright, good.” Jaskier said, sounding slightly relieved – _perhaps he is relieved that you are done making a scene you fucking imbecile_ – “Now then – tea. No objections! Except if you don’t like it?” The guy asked, giving him a questioning look.

Despite himself, Lambert felt himself smiling a bit.

“I like tea just fine, thanks!”

“Good-good-good then!” Jaskier trilled back, looking pleased, and Lambert was honestly baffled by the whole scene.

 _How_ was Jaskier still okay with him being here? Why wasn’t he beside himself or shouting and demanding that Lambert finish what they’d started…?

Or okay, yes, maybe the guys Lambert used to date in the past were criminals and scumbags and maybe ‘normal’ guys weren’t like that – but surely Jaskier should have been at least somewhat angry or annoyed?

As Jaskier was preparing their tea, Lambert felt himself tensing up in preparation for the rejection and the reprimand that was sure to come – which he fully deserved, really… And he also felt slightly annoyed because why the fuck did Jaskier have to be so pretentions as to have to insist on offering him tea – before he had a go at Lambert??

Suddenly, he felt a prickle of irritation lighting up in him – because yeah, no – fuck Jaskier. The guy was clearly a dick if he thought that appearing all nice and offering him tea would make Lambert tolerate whatever Jaskier was about to say to him…

He would just have to show him. He would not to fooled; Jaskier would show his true colours soon enough anyways.

Jaskier only took a few minutes, but it seemed to take an eternity and then he was offering Lambert some kind of fruity tea that smelled like some kind of berries. He muttered a terse ‘thank you’, but accepted the beverage gratefully – and he was actually shocked to find that when he took a sip, it was surprisingly nice. He must have been thristier than he’d realised. He quickly gulped down most of the sugary tea before he realised.

“There’s more if you’d like?” Jaskier asked, looking at him meaningfully. Lambert flushed in embarrassment.

“No, thank you – that’s… more than enough.”

Suddenly, Jaskier stood up and brought the kettle over.

“Well, it would only go to waste here anyway; so please, have some more.” He said, refilling Lambert’s mug before he could’ve objected.

Lambert found himself smirking again.

“You are awfully pushy – anyone ever tell you that?” He asked without malice.

“Oh yeah, all my clients!” Jaskier replied, laughing. “I usually get my way…”

“Hmpf.”

“So…” Jaskier’s tone changed, becoming more sombre. “Care to tell me what happened just now? Because although you didn’t safeworded… it sure seemed like you _safeworded_ – in every sense of the word… but umm – before you say anything, please know, that there is no judgement here! And – well – I’m thrilled you came back at all – I’m glad we are able to be having this conversation right now! Full stop—” Jaskier went on, babbling nervously. He still wasn’t showing any signs of anger – and what’s more… he looked… guilty?

“What?” Lambert asked bluntly, feeling his nerves hanging on by a haywire. He kept expecting Jaskier to go off on him, or to mock Lambert about being a wuss, or something… but this – this – Jaskier being _glad_ that Lambert came back? That they were _talking?_ \---

That made _no sense at all –_

“Ah sorry if I lost you there!” Jaskier said giving him a smile, and taking a deep breath, seemingly in an attempt to calm himself. His voice sounded slower when he continued: “Right, Lambert. So – do you know what happened just now? – No, let me rephrase that! Do you know _why_ you’ve reacted like that?”

That, he knew the answer to… although he wished he didn’t.

“Yes.” He replied simply, looking at his tea instead of looking at Jaskier.

To his surprise, Jaskier seemed to relax a bit at that.

“Good -umm! Well, I’m glad you know why it is… that’s useful, because then we may be able to work to get past it in the future – if you would be interested in working through this, that is---”

“What?” Lambert asked back again, feeling slightly bewildered at Jaskier’s suggestion. “I mean – is that even possible?”

Jaskier smiled widely.

“Sure it is! Well – I don’t know what the ‘it’ is that you are referring to, but… well, I have had lovers in the past who had difficulties with certain things and while I would never pressure anyone into wanting to change, I had been there as a helper before.. and I’ve dealt with similar stuff myself—”

“You have?” Lambert asked, feeling mortified, but intrigued as well. “What.. can I ask, what yours was about?”

Jaskier smiled tightly. “Umm.. it’s not really a great first date material, I’m afraid…” He seemed to hesitate for a second and Lambert was ready to apologise for even asking, when suddenly, Jaskier seemed to have changed his mind. “It was – it was stuff around me being gay. I used to feel disgusted with myself… even if I just so much as kissed a guy. It made me sick, because that’s what my Dad used to say – that it’s disgusting and “they’ll rot in hell” – he was real’ religious, you see? But umm… gradually, I was able to let go of that memory… even though I can never _forget_ about him, but I can _ignore_ it – if that makes sense?”

“It does,” Lambert replied, gripping his mug more firmly than necessary. “I have stuff like that which I’ve dealt with, I think… This one is – it’s harder, because… it’s – it’s an actual event. Not just… someone saying something hurtful… That’s what it reminded me of when – just now, we – you know.” He trailed off, gesturing towards the bed awkwardly, hoping that Jaskier would catch his meaning – because this was already way more detailed than what he was ready to say about this topic…

“Oh God, Lambert! I’m so sorry…” Jaskier uttered, reaching out towards him awkwardly before he caught himself and snapped his hand back.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know…”

“Well, I’m still sorry nonetheless. But I guess –“ Jaskier added with renewed fervour. “I guess at least now I will know what to avoid! So was it – me being behind you? Or was is something I said…?”

Lambert felt distinctly relieved that they were focusing on practical matters, and he replied eagerly:

“Oh, it was the way you put your weight on my back, and – your hand on my nape. That… was really sexy, but also --- sort of freaked me out, because it triggered – that.”

“The memory?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes.”

“Hmm…” Jaskier hummed. “Okay, well – that’s easily avoided. I guess I would just like to make sure that next time if we do this… can you please try and not run away? Because I am happy to help you and I’m happy to stop… you can tell me… is that okay?” The younger man asked, looking up at him hopefully.

Lambert felt utterly dumbfounded. Apparently, Jaskier was okay with all this – his craziness, his stupid fucking triggers… and he was asking _him_ if he was okay? If he wanted to continue seeing him…?

“No – fuck, no, Jask – you don’t get it! Shit, that’s why I came back – I-I didn’t want you to think..” Lambert cursed. “Look – I’m gonna be real simple and straightforward about this. In my book: you did nothing wrong – I was an asshole, because I overreacted over nothing… and the running away – that’s not… it wasn’t about me being scared of you, or anything like that… I was just – ashamed I guess and well… I didn’t want to listen to the unsolicited things I was sure you’d say if I did come back… like my previous boyfriends had, although maybe they’d been dickheads and it was ages ago---”

“Lambert,” Jaskier interrupted him, gently but firmly. “If your previous boyfriends said anything to make you feel shitty about having limits or difficulties with doing certain things… than yes, they were total dickheads.”

Lambert couldn’t help but scoff at that.

“I mean that!” Jaskier protested, looking serious.

Lambert scowled – because fuck, it looked like he was upsetting Jaskier, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“I know you mean it…” He said, forcing himself to look at Jaskier as he replied. “It’s just…. Fuck, Jask! I’m not good at this –“ He gestured at the two of them. “Serious talk shit… you know? I guess… I’m better at laughing at stuff and making jokes out of it, because if I took myself seriously, all the time?” His face pulled into a dark smirk. “Well that would be _real_ fucking depressing… I’m a real catch that way!”

And then he was laughing again, he couldn’t help it, because the absurdity of the situation was creeping up on him.

He was at the house of his date – a first date, no less – talking about his innermost fears and insecurities… there was no way that anything would come out of this! It was a miracle that Jaskier was even tolerating him…

He forced himself to look up and saw Jaskier looking at him with a sad expression. Lambert nodded to himself: this guy was too kind-hearted to throw him out, so he would just need to get rid of himself… do the guy a favour.

“Well, thank you, Jaskier, but I think I’ll – I should really head home now…”

He began to stand up, but to his surprise, Jaskier’s arms were suddenly around him, pulling him back gently.

“Lambert, no – I- I would prefer if you’d stay…”

Lambert couldn’t help it – he snapped.

“You don’t mean that! Stop your fucking – charity thing, and just let me get the fuck out of here, _goddamnit!”_ He sniped at Jaskier, looking at him with as ferociously as he felt inside in that moment; like a wounded animal.

To his surprise, Jaskier puffed his chest out.

“It’s not a _“charity thing”_ you idiot! I - LIKE- YOU – you big fucking moron!”

There was silence in the wake of Jaskier’s words.

Somehow, Jaskier’s confession seemed to have unleashed something in Lambert – either that, or he was still slightly drunk, because in the next second, he found himself lashing out again, voice raw and strained:

“ _Why would you?_ ” He cried, turning away so he wouldn’t have to look at Jaskier. “No one does… and hell, it’s not like I ever did anything to deserve it… I ruin everything I touch!… I’m a mess, Jask. You should stay away—"

“And that’s why I won’t.” Jaskier replied, pulling Lambert closer to himself into the beginnings of an embrace. Lambert found that he couldn’t look away as Jaskier spoke: “Because you are kind, and you’re funny and you’re honest – all qualities I appreciate. And trust me, I can spot a dickhead when I see when, so you’ll have to trust me when I say- you’re not one of them.”

“I definitely have a dickhead though.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny Lambert.” Jaskier sighed, exasperated. “Into bed with you…”

“We haven’t had a shower yet.”

“We’ll take one tomorrow morning.”

The idea of bed suddenly sounded appealing, so Lambert didn’t protest anymore. Jaskier had a damn comfy bed, the lucky bastard. Lambert could feel the beginnings of sleep creeping up on him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He could have sworn that he heard Jaskier mutter: “sweet dreams you idiot”. He murmured something equally kind back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the slow update.. life caught up with me. But don't worry, the fic will be continued.
> 
> Let me know what you'd like to see happen next! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

It was probably a good thing that Jaskier woke up first because if it would have been up to Lambert, he would have tried to flee in the morning – once again…

This way though, he was forced to interact with his host whether he liked it or not.

Who appeared unreasonably chipper this morning.

“Good morning!” Jaskier greeted him jovially. “I’ve made you some more tea – no coffee, don’t worry, I figured you can make your own…”

“Oh crap!” Lambert exclaimed. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s 8.00am?”

Lambert shot up from the bed, dressing himself at record speed.

“Jaskier I’m really sorry but I am already late – crap!” He cursed as he almost fell over on Jaskier’s fancy ottoman. “I need to get to the shop asap – but errm – I am really sorry about last night…”

“You can make it up to me.” Jaskier interrupted him suddenly, saving him from his pathetic rambling. “Just invite me over for dinner on Friday. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert agreed without hesitation. That could be arranged – they could have a nice candlelit dinner down in the coffeeshop or something…

“Great, that’s all settled then! I’ll see you later for my caffeine fix,” Jaskier chirped – for there was no other word to convey the hairdressers chipper sunny demeanor – and he leant closer and actually gave Lambert a full on kiss on the mouth – which made him weak in the knees _again…_

In the end, he made it to the shop by 8.15am. And everything was okay, although Yennefer had been a bit grumpy that she didn’t get her early morning fix. Lambert made it up to her by offering her a few coupons.

* * *

True to his word, Jaskier popped by later that afternoon.

The coffeeshop was empty by then, as the lunch hour rush was over.

“Jaskier- ehm – could we talk?” Lambert said hesitantly.

He had thought about this… prepared for this… _Now is as good as ever..._ _at least you’ll be over it – he told himself._

“Hmm? Sure,” Jaskier said, sitting down on the couch opposite Lambert’s seat without hesitation. “What is it you would like to talk about?”

 _Too many things_ – he thought. But instead of saying that, Lambert cleared his throat.

“There are a few things you should know about if you want to – date me,” He said – hoping he wasn’t presuming too much, but _dating_ seemed like the appropriate word for what they were doing and Jaskier didn’t seem to mind thankfully – so Lambert pressed on. “So umm – you know that I’ve told you that I live here with my Dad?”

Jaskier nodded. “Yeah, with Vesemir. He’s your adoptive Dad.”

“That’s right. And umm… I – I don’t really want to move out, because… rent is expensive, and I have been saving up to buy him a new wheelchair for his birthday…”

“Aww, that’s lovely!” Jaskier exclaimed, looking utterly charmed.

Lambert frowned.

“No – umm – that’s… you should think about it if you want to… umm, date me, because… well, I mean I have some savings, but like – I’m not really well off.” He finished the sentence awkwardly, his message coming across perhaps a bit more gruffly then he’d intended.

“Aaaand?” Jaskier asked, looking at him meaningfully. “Any four-plus figure debt I should be aware of?”

Lambert actually blinked at that.

“Umm – no! Absolutely not! Vesemir hates debt, I’ve never had any loans… I always pay my credit card fees on time –”

Jaskier smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Hmm. Sounds like Vesemir had raised you well.”

Suddenly, the stylist stood up, sauntering over to Lambert’s seat and leaning in over him.

“Jaskier!” Lambert gasped, outraged. “The customers…! Somebody could see us through the window—”

“Let them see,” Jaskier replied sweetly. “I’m just hugging my boyfriend.”

Lambert gave a rather undignified squeak at that, but he batted Jaskier’s arm away.

“Don’t joke around with that! Please…”

 _Fuck_ – it hurt. Hearing that hurt, because Jaskier couldn’t have meant it… It was too soon in their acquaintanceship yet..

Jaskier touched his shoulder again gently.

“Why would I joke about that? Lambert, I wasn’t looking to date anyone! But along came you,” He said, crouching down next to him, and despite himself, Lambert found himself looking straight into Jaskier’s beautiful sincere blue eyes. “I am not seeing anyone else, and as far as I’m concerned – you are my boyfriend now. If that’s what you want as well?”

What he wanted. What did he want?

 _Clearly_ \---

" _Yes_.” Lambert replied, the word coming out a touch stilted and shaky but hopefully understandable. “Yes.”

“Great,” Jaskier muttered, smiling at him. “And as for finances… I think I am well-off enough for the two of us! As I may have mentioned, I’ve got rich parents. And I have a steady job. We’ll do fine!”

Lambert sighed, hesitating before he replied: “But wouldn’t it bother you? Knowing that… your boyfriend has a Dad whom he has to visit often… and I wouldn’t have as much money left to spoil you as you’d like---”

Jaskier broke out in laughter at that, and Lambert felt almost offended, until he saw that Jaskier looked genuinely amused.

“Oh my, Lambert! You couldn’t spoil me anymore if you tried- not with material things anyways!”

Lambert eyed the other man in confusion until he waved his hand over his clothing meaningfully.

“I buy whatever I fancy. I have the most expensive lovely clothes I could ever dream of… If I fancy a perfume, I buy it; if I fancy a piece of jewellery, I buy it… But I would love it if you would cook for me,” Jaskier interjected with a mischievous smile. “Because although I love takeaway, I’m afraid it isn’t good for my health and my - ummm- _shape_ in the long run and… Hmmmm. I’d just love to watch you puttering about in my kitchen, I guess." Jaskier added with a faint flush on his cheeks.

Lambert couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but by then, he was grinning as well.

“You are an absolute idiot if you think that you are getting fat… there’s no meat on you!”

Jaskier pouted in reply.

“Oh, you should’ve seen me when I was a young twink! I was _waifish_ …”

Lambert pursed his lips.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t meet you then, because I prefer you as you are now. And I would be honoured if I could spoil you with more food.”

Jaskier smirked. “Only if you promise to take me on walks! I will not allow myself to get any chubbier than this.”

Lambert held out his palm mirthfully.

“Deal!”

“Deal!” Jaskier replied without missing a beat.

* * *

When Vesemir came down a few minutes later, he saw that Lambert and Jaskier were sitting on the couch, drinking their coffees and chatting amiably, with Jaskier’s hand resting on Lambert’s thighs. He went to the backroom to continue the roasting he’d started earlier, making sure that they didn’t notice him. He didn’t want to bother them, but he smiled good-naturedly to himself.

“Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!!! :) Thank you very much for sticking with me! I'm sorry there wasn't more smut in this, but I hope you enjoyed the story nonetheless. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and support! :3


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